


The Desert's Bones

by bluechaostamer



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bones in the desert, Hot Vulcan planet, M/M, Romantic Comedy, Spock never went to Star fleet, poor bones by himself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-09-21 02:47:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9528521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluechaostamer/pseuds/bluechaostamer
Summary: A.U. Leonard McCoy didn't start in the Enterprise, but he didn't last long in the ship he was assigned to. Klingons attacked and his shuttle crashed into the desert of Vulcan. Single survivor and with limited resources, he pushes through the dunes. That is, until he comes face to face with the biggest bear he's seen in his life... and it has fangs. Oh boy. Spock/McCoy. Ratings may vary per chapter.





	1. Lone Survivor

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers: All Star Trek characters and references (including other references) do not belong to me.
> 
> A/N: WARNING! First chapter kinda sad??? It's not an angst story so things will get happier!

 

"Shit…" McCoy muttered as he slipped around the sand around him. It didn't help that he was trying to run as fast as he could. He hobbled around the wreck surrounding him. His whole ship was hijacked by Klingons while on exploration. Hundreds of escaped shuttles were deployed as the ship realized they weren't going to make it. The medical officers were split amongst the masses to ensure proper and sufficient aid. He happened to be stuck with most of the Calvary. The shuttle was on a specific mission; ensure the safety of the rest of the crew. Unlike some of the other shuttles, his had to stay behind to shield the other crew members. It was a quick realization that he was the only not wearing a red shirt on the ship. He witnessed shuttle after shuttle crash before his eyes from both his side and the enemy side. Until at one point, they were struck down. The emergency landing mechanism was failing and McCoy swore that it was just his luck. He grimaced gravely as he recalled the last moments before the crash.

_"Dr. McCoy, we will do everything in our power to ensure your safety."_

_Leonard looked around the three other officers sitting with him, "Well, don't just spout my name, we've all got to keep each other safe." The three beings looked at one another and then turned to the doctor with nervous smiles, "No Doctor, you are the top priority. Be it the case that any of us survive, we would need a doctor alive to help us."_

_McCoy frowned, "You know for a fact that I damn well can't help any of you lot if you aren't alive to make it," he looked around, "Can't we just eject from this flying contraption?" One of the Lieutenants shook her head, "No sir, the parachutes were struck when we engaging in battle. We are pretty much free falling at this point with no way to escape." She smiled sadly, "Well, all except for one of us…"_

_Leonard shook his head, "You guys can't self-sacrifice yourselves! We all have to make it!" The two officers that weren't piloting began to attach the parachute to the doctor. "No, stop!" McCoy began to struggle, "One you have to wear it! You fought! I am the least deserving of this thing; I just sat here and watched!" The female officer approached him, patting him on the cheek, "And you Doctor? Have you not the same job? You fight every battle with each of us. I've seen you at work. You see our scars and you see our spirits, and you mend them with your abilities and words. I know in your soul you are never disgusted with the marks of war left on our bodies. In fact, you help us see the light in what we do. To me, this has been a personal. You must live."_

Leonard slowly made his way to the crash site, he fell twice tripping over the dunes of the sandy desert around him, "Anyone out here?! Lieutenants!" He reached what was left of the shuttle and prided the thick door open. He gasped at the sight, and dashed inside. The pilot died on impact, and it hurt McCoy's heart to look at his corpse. Hoping to salvage one member, he turned to the other two. He quickly sat next to the first officer he saw, the female Lieutenant from earlier. The woman had been impaled several times by large chunks of shrapnel. She was gone. He simply hoped that death took her before she suffered too much.

_A larger man stepped forward, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket. He spoke with a chopped English, "This would happen eventually. Natural in my field. My family," he placed the paper in McCoy's hands and curled them securely in his hand; "They must read this. I give to you in case." The shuttle rattled, and McCoy almost lost his footing._

_"Entering Vulcan atmosphere," the pilot called back. "How long until we crash?" McCoy whispered._

_"Fifteen minutes," the pilot replied, not turning away from the approaching landscape. The larger man shrugged, but it was followed by a smirk, "Vulcan. You will like planet, doctor."_

_"What? What are you on about?! We have to think of a plan-"_

_"Oh yes," the pilot chuckled, "For one with a fiery spirit like you, the planet will be highly enjoyable."_

_"Fiery, good one," The woman snorted._

_McCoy was about to protest again when he caught sight of the atmosphere the crew wore. They wore forced smiles. It was clear that they were scared. The woman seemed to be silently pleading for him to not to continue. He bit his lip before changing his expression into a groused expression, "I'm not fiery, I'm strongly opinionated. Tact is one of the worst inventions of mankind."_

_"_ _Mankind?" The larger man repeated, chuckling, "tact is universal."_

_The doctor rolled his eyes,"I don't care who invented it, it's pointless and a waste of time. If any Vulcan gets snooty with me I'll put them in place!"_

_"They are 3 times stronger doctor, and if you plan on battling wits, they are highly intelligent creatures."_

_"Are you calling me stupid?" Laughter rung among the crew, but the pilot's laughter gave away to sobbing, "I hope to God that the next life is kinder…," he pleaded._

_McCoy walked over to the pilot, "What's your name, kid?"_

_"Stevens."_

_"_ _No formalities, what's your first name?"_

_"Gary." He turned to the large man, "Yours?"_

_"Raja." Finally, he glanced at the woman. She held her head up high, "Jordan."_

_McCoy nodded, "Gary, Raja, Jordan. I think that there are no braver people than those who selflessly sacrifice themselves in a situation like this. One parachute, I mean, Jesus. This place could have turned into a battle royal of survival. And here we are handing it to the scrawny doctor."_

Once he saw the last body, the doctor could feel himself cracking from his professionalism. The man suffered through intense burns, and it seemed that he had slammed his head aggressively on impact before the burns. He was long dead, but McCoy couldn't shake the feeling that the man would have had a chance to escape had he not have that blow to the head. He, it would seem, would have had a chance.

_The dash began to beep, "It's time, doctor," the pilot announced gravely. Raja sat McCoy down in one of the seats, "This chair can eject." McCoy looked at all of them sternly, "Push through guys," he stated, "cuz my legs will be running toward this shuttle the second my feet land. Hell, my legs will be running through the air to reach you."_

_"I pray we'll be waiting," Gary replied. Raja and Jordan nodded and before he had a chance to answer, he was floating over a desert. His hope strong even after witnessing the explosion below._

There was nothing else he could do. The doctor slowly walked out and sat in under the shade of the shuttle. He let out a long sigh, running his hand through his hair, "You were waiting for me… and...well," he gave an empty laugh, "I wasn't fast enough…" He curled closer to himself as he pulled out his communicator; it was static. The scenery around him was only a lengthy desert; only sand could be seen for miles. Leonard looked up at the orange sky, squinting at the brightness of the planet and reached his pocket. He shut his eyes, feeling the folded piece of paper in his hands.

"I must survive."

 

 


	2. A Loner's Walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimers: I do not own Star Trek, it's characters, or any references that are made.
> 
> Vulcan obviously entails Vulcans, or rather, a specific Vulcan. Spock makes his appearance!

Spock surveyed the state of his report before continuing once more. He simply needed to write his conclusion, and if he wanted to turn in his assignment early enough in case a submittal problem arose, he estimated he should be finished within two standard hours. As he drafted the last few pages, his sehlat approached him and nudged his elbow, causing him to type incoherent words on his pad.

"I-Chaya," Spock admonished, adjusting his sentence structure, "I cannot play with you at this time. I must finish this report within a specific time constraint." The sehlat, in turn, made a dissatisfied grunt and lightly shoved Spock's arm again. The Vulcan turned his head sharply at the creature, his face hinting at a frown, "What is the meaning of this disobedience, I-Chaya? You do not usually carry on in this manner," he looked at his creature closely, gently raising I-Chaya's chin and turning his face from right to left, "I have already fed you properly. You should not be showing any signs of aggression."

"Maybe you haven't been giving him enough attention," a stern voice reasoned. Spock turned to the entrance of his room to see his mother, Amanda. "Besides," she continued, "All you are ever doing nowadays is reports. You need to take I-Chaya out and humor him for a while; he misses you! And quite honestly I feel as though he's fed up with being ignored," She looked back and forth between her son and the sehlat, "you both need some fresh air. It won't do to stay in this stuffed house all day."

The Vulcan glanced at his friend, who sat before him, laying his head down sadly, "I must stay on top of my academics-" he began to reason, but his mother held up her hand and interrupted, "I know for a fact that what you are currently working on is extra credit, Spock," she stated blandly, "you are already at the top of your class, so what you're doing is pointless! It's- It's as though…" her brows furrowed, "Are your professors forcing you to do this? No… are your classmates commenting on your genetic make-up again?"

Spock, who still had his eyes on I-Chaya, let out a long sigh he only ever displayed near his mother, "I do not do this work for the satisfaction of my classmates," he laid out carefully, "I simply wish to make the most of my education."

"But are they? Your classmates?" Amanda questioned, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. Spock threw a glanced at his mother, "Such an inquiry has nothing to do with why I would want to finish my work as efficiently as possible."

"Then they are!" his mother spouted, face reddening. She knew that if Spock avoided giving a direct answer, it was to hide the truth. She crossed her arms, looking directly into his eyes, "it's not fair Spock. Honestly, if they hadn't seen your hybrid make-up as a handicap, you'd already be teaching in the Vulcan Academy, rather than still studying in it. You've been shot down from so many opportunities! Where's the logic in that? You don't have to work twice as hard for them. You can be just as good- better in fact- and..." she looked at I-Chaya, dejected, "still enjoy time with family."

Spock watched his mother, contemplating within himself of her honest expressions. To think this was not a common thing in most households was logical, but he wondered whether or not he would be satisfied with such a setting. He knew his practice; he took from his father. Being raised in silence and without outbursts would be strange,"I have not avoided you, mother, and father is often out-"

"Don't give me that, young man. I am talking about I-Chaya. He has been pestering you all day when all he wants to do is play for thirty minutes. Can't you let him have thirty minutes? You seem to be putting us aside more and more as the years go by."

Spock glanced at his paperwork, "As one grows older, they must be able to part from family. This, of course, does not mean abandonment, but rather, a sort of separation from the nuclear family. It should not be a surprise that I would see you all less and less as I grow older." Amanda leaned against the door frame, "Oh Spock, I know you are growing up. And I know you will be leaving the nest soon. But there is a big difference between being busy and entirely ignoring family for classwork."

The Vulcan kept his eyes on his paper, "...I must complete this work." I-Chaya whined a little, but then stood up and walked out of the room. As the sehlat passed her on the way out of the room, Amanda let out an exasperated huff and placed her hands on her hips, "when do you expect to play with him? You may feed him, bathe him, and even groom him, but he is family too, Spock. He may not be a cub anymore, but he needs his friend…" she frowned, "I would understand if you had left to dorm closer to the Academy, but living here and not interacting with family is absolutely unreasonable. What about after your report?"

Spock began typing once again in his pad, "I will contemplate setting a schedule for him as I work." His mother let out a groan, "Honestly, you are being as ridiculous as your father!" she slammed the door as she left. Spock reminded himself that he would rather face the emotional inconsistencies of his mother than to move closer to the Vulcan Academy and be subjected to the 'psychological probes' his peers put him up to. He could not afford any distractions, but in a more unspoken not, he could not afford to have another emotional outburst such as the one he had as a child.

* * *

 

There was a fair amount of rations within the shuttle, but McCoy could not phantom how long they would last for him out in the desert. He counted out the small granola bars and water bottles. They weren't seasoned steaks with mashed potatoes, but he had already given up that kind of luxury the moment he entered Starfleet. Good ol' iced tea was what he wanted right now. And if he was really making pointless wishes at this moment, he hoped that some cold rain would drop down from the heavens.

Leonard was a man of science, but he did not delve too much on the inner workings of every single planet. Basics would work just fine, but he needed space on his mental hard drive for much more useful information. Like how to stitch these space heads he worked with together. Out of the little he knew about the planet, it consisted mostly of desert lands, so that rain he was praying for would not be happening anytime soon. And due to the gravitational tug being stronger on this planet, he also felt a lot heavier. Meaning he was going to feel like he was carrying sacks of bricks on his back for every step. Funny how he always remembered the dangers of planets more than the overall data. Like where to find water and food... and civilization.

"Great," he muttered as he pulled off his blue shirt and black shirt, "My cardio instructor at the academy always told me that the best condition to work out would be in a desert. Now I get to walk for miles in the heat with extra weight on my shoulders…" He wrapped the rations he had in his black shirt and placed the blue shirt back around his neck. Ultraviolet rays would kill him within hours. He would be a puddle of melted mush by the time any help could find him. If not, he'd choke on the sand that would pile in lungs. Which ever came first, honestly. 

After looking around aimlessly for a bit, he vaguely wondered if he would be able to pinpoint south, east, west, and north, but he realized he wasn't entirely sure about the arrangement of this particular solar system. He couldn't rely on his shadow. Heck, North could also mean anything on this planet. He squinted his eyes and made a full circle view of the scenery. He figured he'd just pick a path and go.

"Uhhhh. I pick… that way," he pointed in no general direction, "better than simply standing here. I don't expect to be found, honestly, and the fact that signal isn't even active doesn't really give me a fighting chance. Might even find some signal elsewhere."

He glanced back at the shuttle. Staying in place was the best form of being found, but he had no idea how long that would take and whether or not his rations would last. Whereas the shuttle could provide decent shade, it would not help him get any signal. He also wasn't a big fan of following procedure. He glanced at one of his water bottles and popped the cap open. "Drink number one. Let's see how long you last…"

* * *

 

After the two hours had finished, Spock had turned in his assignment without any flaws and had come up with walk schedule for I-Chaya. One that he hoped his friend would be satisfied with following for the rest of his studies."I-Chaya," Spock called out throughout the household, "I-Chaya, where are you hiding?" Amanda popped her head out from the kitchen calling out to Spock cheerfully, "I think he went outside. You may want to check in his hideout in the backyard."

Spock nodded and made his way to the back door. "I-Chaya!" Spock beckoned, but his pet made no response. In fact, it didn't seem that he was outside at all. He wondered if I-Chaya took a walk on his own. It was not uncommon, but it would always put his mother in a fit of worry. The sehlat would be gone for days on end, and there was no particular pattern to his calendar of absence. Amanda knew of the predators out in the desert planes, and her fear is that one day I-Chaya would try to tackle something instead of avoid it. It was part of the reason she or Spock would walk him. So he wouldn't run toward trouble. He turned to head inside, and was met with his mother, biting her lip in concern, "He went out on his own again, didn't he?"

Spock nodded, "It appears so." Amanda shook her head, she switched to bite her knuckle and stepped back inside. Spock followed her inside, keeping his hands folded behind his back, "He has done this several times, mother. I am sure I-Chaya is well accustomed to taking care of himself by this point. It is as you have said, 'he is no longer a cub'."

The old woman gave a weak smile, "I suppose you are right, Spock, but I can't help but worry he may get hurt."

"It is understandable, mother, but there is a 92. 56 percent chance that he will be coming home safely."

Amanda frowned, "and what about the other 7.45 percent?"

"It is very unlikely."

"But it's there, Spock," Amanda murmured sadly. Spock never knew what to do when his mother got like this. He usually let the commentary slide, but she seemed a little more agitated. Out of a spontaneous sort of need to appease her, he spoke out confidently, "then I will go find him."

Amanda turned in shock, "What? No! Spock, it's too dangerous for you to go out there alone!"

Spock rose one brow, "But you are concerned over his well-being. What else is there to do but to take action?" Amanda looked over the desert horizon, I-Chaya was family; she didn't want to leave it up to faith for him to return. But it would be worse if she lost her son over this as well.

Spock, noting her conflict stepped closer to her, "I am no longer a child either, mother. I understand what to avoid in my path. It is I-Chaya who would have a chance at danger. The most logical course of action would be for me to find him, appease him, and perhaps finish the walk we both very much need." Amanda hesitated, but finally smiled at Spock, approaching the last few steps toward him and pointlessly adjusting his robes. This was a nervous tick his mother always did when she was overwhelmed with feelings. He grew accustomed to the act over the years and allowed her codding,

"You're right Spock, I keep thinking that you are much younger than you truly are," she stopped straightening his attire as she lit up with an idea. Spock rose his brow as he awaited her announcement.

She swiftly turned around and started toward the kitchen, "I'll go make you some food to take," she declared, "who knows how long you will be out there. You may know where all the water wells are by heart, but you need to keep your energy up out there."

Spock followed her to the kitchen, "Mother, I must insist that I simply head out. As you have stated precisely 45.2 seconds ago and now counting, you have the mindset that I am much younger than-"

"Hold this," Amanda ushered, handing Spock a wrapped box of what could only be his food. Spock took it –it is illogical to decline food that would serve purpose to his trip –and he attempted to reason with her again, "I am capable of handling everything on my own-"

His mother made her way around him and spoke over him, "Do you need a change of clothes? I was doing laundry some hours ago, so I'm sure the clothes have dried already." She reached for a bag made of fabric and began to hum as she stepped outside to retrieve said clothes.

The Vulcan stood still attempting to process how he should approach the situation, but if there was something he was completely sure of (99.86 percent, if he was being accurate) was that his mother would not stop once she had her mind set. He supposed it was due to the fact that he had been occupied with his academics and labs back at the Academy that there was not much opportunity for her to nurture anyone other than I-Chaya, who simply needed to be fed and walked. As much as his mother enjoyed coddling, she tended to know that his studies required space.

"Okay," Amanda stated as she handed him a bag of clothes, "I have four sets of clothes in there. In case you are gone for more than one day or something spills on you." Spock looked into the bag and confirmed the quantity. He nodded and shifted his gaze back up to her, "Everything is satisfactory, mother."

His mother beamed at the compliment, but then her face morphed into concern, "take care of yourself, Spock," she whispered.

"I will do everything I can to fulfill that plea," Spock declared sternly.

His mother gave him a quick hug before her worried overwhelmed her, "alright Spock, off you go then."

"Very well," Spock replied. He began his trek by taking the usual walk route he normally walked with his sehlat. Hopefully I-Chaya wandered off in a habitual trail and he would only need to catch up to him. He was not overly concerned about his sehlat, but he repeated the odds of his sehlat returning several times over in his head as he made the first mile through his search.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Amanda first appeared in the TOS series, I felt like she was super against and super for logic at the same time. To better phrase it, she respects logic and all that it entails, but you best believe she won't let logic dictate the household. (Funny how Sarek thinks he is the head of the household.)


	3. Storm of the Deserted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock is searching for I-Chaya and Leonard is searching for civilization. Will they find what they are looking for? Probably not any time soon.

_A sandstorm is forming,_ Spock contemplated, looking at the dark clouds at a safe distance, _it is fortunate that they are being carried away elsewhere, or I'd have to warn mother of its approach._

He did not consider the thought of how he would have to protect himself, as he felt fully capable figuring something out, _I-Chaya and I have also gone through sandstorms together, so I trust in his instincts. However, considering the path is out of our usual route, I believe there is little chance he is going through such a strong storm._

The Vulcan continued onto his path, but when he was halfway through their usual walk route, and his mother had not yet called to inform him of I-Chaya's arrival, his calculated probabilities of his pet keeping their usual route lowered significantly. Spock stopped, and looked at the storm once again. Although it had grown, it was smaller due to the distance it was traveling. He reassessed his statistics and concluded there was a fifty-fifty chance of where his sehlat could have gone; on track or off-track. There was no way to truly chose, but something within him wanted to veer off their normal route. Regardless, what direction off route is unclear. It seemed illogical, but nonetheless, Spock shifted his bag to his other shoulder and moved off route toward the storm to look for his sehlat.

* * *

 

"Kill me now lord I'm at your mercy," McCoy muttered as he dragged his feet through the sand dunes, "'Hotter than Vulcan', God, I understand now. It's probably hotter than the devil's balls here." He looked at the water bottle he had been nursing for the past few hours, and has a strong urge to drink more, but he knew that if he over indulged he wouldn't last long.

Heck, he had no idea how he was still even alive at this point. If he remembered correctly, the temperatures on this planet are well over 100 degrees Fahrenheit. He had endured hot temperatures back at Georgia, but he had greenery there with fruits and water, and… he let his thoughts stop there before he began to whine out loud.

What he really wanted to do is collapse on his knees, but the sand dunes were so steep he'd probably lose footing and roll off the hill. The hot winds seemed to be picking up, but it was hardly able to cool the sweat coating his skin. He glanced up to look for clouds- vaguely wondering if that was even something that could happen in the scorching planet, rain- and cocked his head in confusion at a dark line at the horizon, "What in the world is that?" he muttered, shifting the weight of his bag to his other arm. He frowned, "I'll be damned if I know what that is. Looks to me like a thunder storm," he chuckled to himself, "too bad there aren't any oceans nearby or else…" he paused in realization, "That's a sandstorm." _Sweet Georgian peaches I'm as good as dead._

He began to panic, pacing back and forth. Sure, the storm was far now, but it would come, and it would come sooner than McCoy could even get halfway back to the shuttle, which, he'd admit, he had no idea how to get back to. There was nothing to hide behind or anything to grip on to. He wasn't an extreme light-weight, but he wasn't massive either. That wind could carry him through the desert like tumbleweed. _I should have stayed in that shuttle..!_

Even at his given distance, he could feel the winds starting to pick up. He grabbed the blue tunic that he had around his neck and tied it over his mouth and nose. He felt his bare skin being pelted by the small grains of sand.

"That thing's coming whether I like it or not," McCoy growled into his shirt, "so my top priority should probably be protecting my goods," he shifted the black shirt again, placing it closer to his chest in a protective grip. However, as he did, he tripped on the sand and began to tumble down the large dunes.

"Whoa!" He cried out. He hugged his rations closely as he rolled down for what felt like an eternity. "Jesus," he coughed as he landed in a valley of two dunes, "I hope this sand's not toxic; I've inhaled my body's weight of this junk by now."

The doctor shifted in the sand as he stood up. The wind kept increasing and hadn't lessened as he picked up some of his rations that were dropped from his fall. Once he finished, he made his climb up the dune. He paused, "Maybe I can hide behind the dunes? If I stay on top of one, I may be easily carried away," he was about to climb down, but then shook his head, continuing his pace, "Nope, never mind, I may be buried alive in sand. I'd rather be flung around in sand and land on top of it dead than to never be found under it." He shivered at the thought of being buried alive.

Once he was above the dune, Leonard had to face away from the winds of sand; it was pelting him far too strongly. He vaguely noted that the sky was beginning to darken as the sand around him began to thicken. He looked up and all he saw was swirling smoke and dust, then a flash of light. At first, he thought it was his eyes playing tricks on him, but to his amazement, and fear, he heard thunder claps. Electric sandstorm, just his luck… He hugged his bag tightly and kept walking forward, his balance wavering due to the winds. He prayed to God he'd live through this. Closing his eyes, he pushed forward, only occasionally looking down to make sure he wouldn't fall off the top of the dunes. The thundering got louder and louder and McCoy's ears roared as one particular thunder clap dragged on for almost thirty seconds; its sound never lessening. He hugged his rations tightly, but fell backwards from the force of the wind. He regrettably could not find the energy to stand up. He was already weak from the hours in the heat.

 _Disease and danger..._ he thought to himself cynically, and paused in his thoughts, remembering.

_Jim._

* * *

_"You're being assigned to a ship?!"_

_McCoy looked up from his PADD at Jim Kirk, who had slammed open the door. He stomped straight onto his bed, hopping on it dramatically. Such a disruptive roommate, "Now who went and blabbed that? Or did you look it up?"_

_Kirk crossed his legs, making himself comfortable on_ his _bed, "Not important, Bones."_

_They stared at each other until Leonard finally gave in and sighed, "Yes, I'm being assigned. I hadn't much training to do as a doctor, so most of the classes I had were mostly related to regulation of the fleet. I graduated early."_

_His friend pouted, "You can't. You're supposed to be assigned to MY ship."_

_"_ _Jim, you have another year until you graduate," McCoy stated, "besides, the only reason I accepted it was because it would only be for one year. I know Pike has his heart set on putting you on our first five-year mission. I'll be back in time for you to shove me into your tin can."_

_His friend still didn't seem to accept the answer, "I just thought we'd start our first mission… together."_

_Bones scrubbed his roommate's head, "This isn't a matter of firsts, Jim. Besides, you think I won't keep in contact? I'll message you every day, how's that, kid?"_

_J_ _im playfully slapped off McCoy's hand, snickering, "I can only imagine what you'd say. 'Disease and danger everywhere Jim!', 'The Andorian shingles are spreading, Jim!', 'Jim, I heard a funny noise I swear this ship is about to blow up in the middle of space', 'Communication was down on that planet for ten seconds Jim, I swear that ship abandoned us!'" "_

_I don't appreciate that one bit, Jim," McCoy answered dryly. Kirk laughed, and all the doctor could do from laughing with him was roll his eyes._

_Jim grasped his shoulder, "Just promise you'll come back to MY ship, okay? None of the whole," he gestured vaguely, "dying business."_

_"I can't assure you that," Bones scoffed, "disease and danger, remember?"_

* * *

_Sorry kid_ , McCoy thought weakly. The most he could do was hope his body was found so that that his fellow officer Raja could get his note back to his family. Right now, all he could do was lay down. He was dehydrated, but he didn't have the energy to grab one of the bottles he had left. Wind was still blowing sand everywhere, and he couldn't quite sit  up to reach over to grab a bottle. "Water…" he whispered, his eyes shut tightly.

And by some God given miracle he felt something large and wet slide across his face. It was pleasantly cool, yet oddly disturbing. On that note, he no longer felt pelted by the sand winds, yet he could still hear the roaring of the air. The wet thing continued to move across his face and then to his exposed skin; it felt like a large moist, yet rough rag, cleaning him up. Had someone save him?

"Thank you," he murmured, gratefully. He tried to crack one eye open, but the rag moved to his face again. McCoy was simply going to relax until he felt his bag being tugged from his arms. His survival adrenaline kicked in and he mustered enough energy to sit up, "Wait!" he cried out in panic.

The tugging had stopped, but the doctor took no notice as he made eye contact with his supposed savior. It was the largest bear he's ever come across. Honestly, it's the only bear he's come across. Just, in human scale, it was significantly larger. Leonard stared at it dead in the eyes; they were dark brown beads. He quickly broke eye contact, _what if he considered that a challenge?_ The large animal huffed at him and began to sniff him. McCoy tried to steady his breathing, but he wasn't sure he could.

He noticed that bear had two things in his mouth, and upon closer inspection, it dawned on him that they were fangs. Like a saber tooth, but these things were basically 6 inches long. That was just his luck wasn't it? Jumping from one danger to the next. He tried to slide away slowly, but a giant paw landed on his leg. Not painfully so, but enough from keeping him from moving. McCoy felt himself start getting dizzy from dehydration and fear. It's not like he would have made it far trying to run away anyhow. This bear could eat him alive right now and he wouldn't even have the energy to thrash in pain.

A thunder clap pulled him out of his muse, and he flinched at the intruding noise. He was still in the storm. Noting this, he looked at the bear again, and he seemed to be protecting him with its body. The animal let out a breathy yawn, and licked its lips. It seemed harmless enough, but he wouldn't know for how long. The bear leaned his head closer and licked him with his large tongue.

_Oh lord, that wasn't a wet rag earlier, was it?_

The bear tried to grab his bag again, and McCoy blinked, does he want the rations? He opened his bag and pulled out three granola bars. As he tried to open one, the giant bear took it and ate it. McCoy gave a startled grunt; fearing the thing was aiming for his hands, but then made a scowl. His fear of the creature defeated by his concern over its health. "Now listen here, pal, you ought to watch what you put in your mouth," he pointed at the creature, who was still chewing on the food, "You can't eat the wrapper, I don't know if you can digest that. Honestly, I'm praying you can digest the food itself."

He saw some of the wrapper in the corner of the bear's mouth, and began to tug on it, but the bear clamped his mouth tighter, and began to tug back. His pulling, however, was not aggressive. In fact, once McCoy stopped tugging, so did the creature. As though probing, the bear pulled slightly and waited for Leonard to tug again. The man gave a slight chuckle, "Why, you're just a playful little bugger aren't you? I'm not playing tug-o-war here, pal, just need you to NOT eat this wrapper. It's no good for you."

Hesitantly, he attempted to stroke the bear's chin. The creature closed its eyes and relaxed enough to slide the wrapper out of its mouth. "Aha!" He stated cheerfully, but the bear didn't seem to care; his attention mostly toward the ministrations the doctor was giving him. He pet the animal for about a minute until he stopped in favor of quickly opening the second wrapper. Tossing it in the bear's mouth, the creature was easily distracted with the food. McCoy took this moment to open the cap of his water bottle and took a sip, eyeing the creature's large fangs.

"I've got a feeling I'm going to have to ration for two."

The bear glanced up at him as he licked his lips. It yawned again and dragged his paw- as well as McCoy- closer to himself, "whoa, wait, listen here, you! I'm a doctor, not a teddy bear...!," he paused in confusion, considering the irony of the situation, "just keep those fangs away!"

Instead of being bitten by him, however, the bear laid closer and curled up with the man against his stomach. Leonard looked around him and realized the bear was basically protecting and grounding him from the blunt of the winds. By the sound of it, the winds seemed to be stronger than earlier, too. Yet he was sitting in a protected spot under the bear before him. He glanced back at the bear, already seeming to fall asleep, and finally snuggling closer, "I may not be a teddy bear," he whispered as his eyes began to droop, "but you sure seem to be."

And even through the heat and thick fur, Leonard was able to relax enough to fall asleep too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sehlats are usually aggressive if you don't feed them, but I'm sure I-Chaya was still good and fed by Spock before he left? Or knows how to find it more food. And Jim, I couldn't help it. In the face of death, I feel like Bones would think of the only person in his life who'd never walk out on him. His best friend. More to proceed later! No more lonely chapters (except for Spock poor bby I will care for you smol Vulcan child...!)


	4. Me, Myself, and I-Chaya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock contemplates over his childhood with his ever caring sehlat. Bones wakes up with a giant bear who's sole purpose in life is to leech off his rations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Kreyla: A sort of bread like food that Vulcans sometimes eat with Plomeek soup.

Spock recalled traveling with his sehlat off route when he was younger. It was a secret between his friend and himself. There were days in which meditation would not sedate his human blood, and he would require space for himself. Away from the unsatisfied glance of his father, away from the pitying eyes of his mother, and away from the classmates that viewed him as a creature below them. A creature to be tested and analyzed rather than having an intellectual conversation with. I-Chaya would be able to take him distances. These were places the sehlat would pick seemingly at random. They would find obscure villages that wouldn’t recognize them or they would simply lay in the softer sands of the Vulcan planes and bask in the sun rays. He vaguely wondered if his father, who had owned I-Chaya before him, would go through these treks with him or simply deem it a useless quirk of the sehlat.

The plan was to check into each village and inquire about his sehlat. His friend would have to feed himself, and therefore, the most logical solution is to make a pit stop at a village, a source of water, at least. This theory could also be countered by finding a small creature and attempting to eat it. The first thought was the one Spock believed to be the preferred situation, but I-Chaya was a curious creature. One could never know what he would want to eat at random. Many times either Spock or one of his parent would have to prevent their furry friend from eating strange objects. Age, it would seem, did not come with wisdom when it came to I-Chaya’s eating palette.

The Vulcan glanced at the sky. The sun was beginning to set, as it had been 6 hours since he had gone to search for his sehlat, and he knew that regardless as to whether or not he would want to continue or not, it would be unreasonable to ignore the food his mother made him. He unraveled the blanket protecting his food and laid it out on the sand. There was relatively little winds, and this pleased Spock immensely, he would not have to concern himself over whether or not the sand would blow onto his food. He took out a thermal holding Plomeek soup and unraveled a *Kreyla and placed it before him on the cloth. He estimated the first village he would arrive in would take no more than 3 hours, so he had plenty of ration to go by. As he watched the sky, he contemplated whether or not his sehlat was eating as well as he was. He took a bite of his Kreyla, he would need to eat quickly if he wanted to arrive to his destination before it was dark.

* * *

McCoy began to squirm; desperately trying to hang on to his sleep. He hated sleeping in the heat. Did someone turn on the heater? Jesus, he was probably sweating all over his clothes. And what the hell was up with this wool blanket? He never owned-

A loud snore made him recall everything that happened before his slumber. The doctor immediately stopped squirming with wide eyes. He had apparently been laying against the bear, who was still fast asleep. Would it still be friendly? Or was it only nice to him to lower his guard? He shifted slightly and his back began to scream agony. He had slept in an awkward position and now he was paying the price. As he glanced onto his lap, he could see that all his rations were still tied snug in his bag. That’s good, he would live a while longer. He scrubbed his face in thought and felt the prickling of his five o’ clock shadow. Or at least, he thought it was. He wasn’t sure what time he crash landed, and he had no idea how long he was out for. The sun was still out, but it was quickly starting to get darker. He'd think that it would get cooler too, but it seemed that that wasn't going to be the case here. He shook his head. He was sleeping in odd schedules on the ship anyhow, so he was most likely suffering through jet lag. This planet was on 24 hour interval of days, right? He wasn't too sure on how long he was out.

The bear began to shift and McCoy stood up quickly. Again, it’s not like he could run away from it, but he wasn’t about to lay on top of it when the creature could very well not want him in his personal space. He paused, checking the bear as it began to stand up. Yep. Male. That made it all the more fun, didn’t it? He hoped he wasn’t territorial. Or anything remotely like the bears back at Earth. Lord save us all if the fella got tired of rations.

The bear smacked its lips and shook off some off the sand still attached to itself. McCoy simply stared at it in awe. It was seriously the hugest bear he's ever thought possible. Bears were large, sure, but this one was taller than him even on all its fours. Picturing him trying to stand on his hind legs cause his blood to run cold. Leonard's whole torso could fit inside that guys mouth. He flinched as the bear turned to him. He tried avoiding its eyes directly, but kept tabs on him as he stepped closer to him. He sniffed him over and tugged on the black shirt holding the bars and water bottles.

“Okay, okay,” McCoy grumbled, “hold on a sec, I just had to make sure you weren’t about to eat me.”

The bear made a small growl under its breath, and continued to tug, even as McCoy tried to pull out the food, “Don’t make me yell at you,” he warned, tugging back. He finally freed two bars and used his mouth to peel the silver wrap. Once he freed the first one, he tossed it at the bear, who let go of the bag to catch the snack. Unprepared of the sudden release, McCoy fell backwards and spilled his food.

“Real graceful,” he muttered to himself, trying to brush off the sand on his body. Once the bear saw the rations on the ground, he began to scoop them up. McCoy panicked as he broke open two water bottles, “don’t waste it, you moron!” he cried, trying to shoo him away, but the giant creature let out a low and intimidating growl. All McCoy could do was step back and glare at it with defiant eyes, “You want to steal my food? Is that it?” He pointed at the fast drying water on the sand, “See that? You could have drunk that water. I would have given it to you. It’s wasted away on the sand now, thanks to you,”

The bear kept licking the water spilling from the bottle, but kept his eyes on McCoy. Once he finished, he nudged one of the water bottles toward him. The doctor darted his eyes back and forth between the bear and the drink skeptically, and bear pushed to bottle toward him again. Hesitantly, Leonard gripped the bottle, his eyes still darting back at the bottle as he looked back at the bear.

“You’re giving this to me?” he asked it, curious at first, but then frowned, “It was mine to begin with, pal, so don’t think you’re being a good little Christian by giving alms to the poor,” he popped open the cap and took one gulp.

The brown creature scooped up another granola then sat down, chewing the bar and staring at McCoy. Leonard grimaced at the act and approached the other rations. How long would he last with this thing leeching off of him? He definitely knew these rations wouldn’t last. He counted the bars still on the ground. Five. He looked around at the bottles. Six. These things weren’t big portions, either. He sighed, wondering if he could try to put the rations back in his black shirt. Slowly walking toward the scattered food, his peripherals focused on the bear while he strode around it, picking up the salvageable goods.

“Aren’t you native to this planet? I wonder if you hunt for small critters. It would be a damn waste for me if you eat all I have and then go off and feed yourself silly after I die of starvation,” McCoy grumbled as he tied the shirt back up. He slung the black fabric over his shoulder and glanced at the bear again. It was simply chewing on the silver wrapper at this point. Half of it was poking out of its mouth, as if he was just playfully chewing on it.

“I already told you, don’t eat the wrapper,” McCoy reached and scrubbed the bear’s chin, and the bear released the wrapper. The doctor then placed the empty plastic back into his black shirt, “Well, now what?” he asked, looking around as he mindlessly petted the mammal. The giant creature reached over licked his face.

“Whoa please, not the face,” McCoy chuckled nervously as the bear continued to lick him, “I’m no narcissist or anything, but I have no idea what you’ve put in that mouth of yours other than those granolas I’ve fed you, so if you please,” the bear paused, but then dragged his tongue slowly across Leonard’s face, “I’m starting to wonder if you actually understand me and do these things to piss me off.”

McCoy watched as the bear hunched down, tilting his back toward the doctor. The man glanced curiously at him for a moment before realizing what he was doing, “You want to give me boost?” he chuckled, “Oh no, uh-uh. I am not doing that,” the bear nudged him, trying to get him to climb him, and McCoy simply stepped back, “I wouldn’t ride you even if you had a saddle, big guy.”

Noting the doctor wasn’t going to hop on, the bear stood back up and snapped his teeth at him, “You think snapping your teeth at me is gunna get me on your back?” The bear snorted and then leaned back down to allow Leonard to climb it, “Manners evade you, don’t they?” he grumbled as he gave a try on climbing the bear. He tried not to tug too hard on the fur, but the creature didn’t seem to make any indication that he was hurting him. Once the man settle on top of the bear, he began to scratch the top of his head, “Like a giant, teeth snapping, could-possible-eat-you-whole teddy bear.”

Leonard gripped the bag in one arm and the fur on the bear with the other, leaning forward to make sure the rations wouldn’t fall. As he seemed to relax, the mammal began to walk forward. The man gripped tightly on the fur under his hands, trying to find decent leverage. It slowly began to pick up speed, much to McCoy’s fear, “Uh, what’s the speed limit in these deserts?!” he called out, “I don’t take kindly to much of any public transportation!”

He hoped this bear arrived to its destination soon. If not he would slaughter him after his nice brown coat gets soiled with the doctor's vomit.

* * *

  _[message sent]_

 

Subj: _My turn!_

  
_Hey Bones,_

_You usually send the messages first, but I guess since today yours is running a little late, I’ll do you the favor._

_...Okay, really I just want to talk about Kobayashi Maru. Selfish? Yes. Always. It_ _was pretty bad this time. You guessed right again. The Klingons got me this time. Oh, and I don’t mean to scare you (I do), but my CMO got killed halfway through the simulation. But the good news? I got further this time. My CMO sucked, anyhow.You’d have survived. He's too... average. He follows the textbook too much. He doesn't think critically. I may switch him out. I'm thinking over all the paths as we speak. It's like a puzzle, Bones, I know you don't play chess or sudoku much, but think of it like reverse engineering a disease or figuring out a cure. You live for it. And I know what you are going to write before you even write it, “kid, let it go, it’s unbeatable.” Says who? Faculty? Admirals? That’s because they didn’t try hard enough. I assure you Bones, by the time you get back, that test will be DEFEATED!_

_Anyhow, how’s that virus you mentioned going? Did you have to correct that snooty CMO again? Please tell me there have been nurse witnesses to any of your sass. That guy’s ego is unnecessarily huge. I’m sure you’ve got a metaphor for it, too. Like, larger than saucers or something, right?_

_This is your future Captain speaking,_

_-James T. Kirk_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spock's had a rough childhood, and I-Chaya has been right there with him since the dawn of his birth. They would travel to little villages together, and Spock would be able to withhold his birth status and genetic outcome and be able to converse with these strangers on the same level. If not, he would be able to just bask in solitude in the deserts of Vulcan with his silent friend. 
> 
> Bones is really fearing for his life. This giant creature is like a giant puppy, but it's also super selfish. Eating his food and whatnot. Where will this bear end up landing? A village Spock is in, hopefully? Maybe. Maybe not.


	5. Discovery, Death, Demand and Demerit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The destination I-Chaya arrives at isn't exactly what McCoy was hoping for, but at least he is able to change wardrobe. Spock's getting a little more concerned (not that, you know, he is because he's Vulcan, hahaha-yeah he's probably getting worried.)  
> And Jim is still sending messages.
> 
> Action to ensue! And drama!

McCoy looked up at the sky in a daze. Stars may not be positioned in places he was familiar with, but the sight was nonetheless lovely. He leaned his head against the bobbing body of the running mammal. Sure, he was internally panicking, but he simply had little to no energy to make a scene or comment. It was getting dark and the heat was still as suffocating. He was low on water and on his last few bars. Honestly, if this bear wasn’t taking him to food, he didn’t know how he would be surviving for the next day. As they traveled through the desert, the soft dunes became rough and rocky. Leonard looked around and wondered if he would even be able to tread on such uneven terrains as swiftly as the bear he was on was. The creature was massive, but he seemed to smoothly maneuver and place his footing on just the right placed. He was also moving at around a 30 mph pace. Perhaps this was the reason the bear wanted him to ride him? This creature seemed pretty people friendly for a wild animal. Or was it that even the creatures on this planet lived through logic?

McCoy raised his head and looked ahead of the path the bear was running. “Is that-?” squinting his eyes, McCoy could see that there was a settlement further down the terrain. Excited, he looked down at the head of the creature and then back at the small village.

“That looks like civilization!” Leonard cried out. He would pet the creature, but honestly he needed both hands to grip on the food and the bear. The excitement, however, began to die out as they neared the place. It was a village, yes, but it seemed to be abandoned. The bear began to slow down into a gentle stop and knelt onto the ground to allow McCoy to get off.

“It’s abandoned,” he muttered numbly, walking around. He looked up at the sky. At this point, the only light was from stars and moons in the sky. He glanced back at the bear, who stood back up and began to tread inside the village. He was upset, sure, but in all honestly the animal could have very well believed that McCoy lived in this kind of setting, it wasn’t like a huge bear could waltz inside a normal settlement either. This was probably the closest thing to a home the bear could have taken him to. But that thought really didn’t make him feel any better. He followed the bear, pulling out his communicator, which, of all luck, was still not working. He hit it with his palm a couple of times, but nothing worked.

“Damn it!” He uttered, completely frustrated, and making a halt. He stared at the communicator hopelessly. He should be grateful it has only been roughly a day, but considering food and water...

Leonard shook his head, “this place will have to do,” he stated out loud, interrupted his own thoughts. He reached into his black shirt got a granola, slowly chewing on it. He also pulled out another water bottle and looked around for the bear, who was a good ten feet ahead of him, “Hey, big guy, drink some water; I know I would want a sip if I ran the trek you did.”

The bear, it seemed, didn’t pay any notice of him. The doctor shrugged and allowed him to walk. He made his way deeper in the settlement as well. It looked ancient. There were structures that seemed to have merged with the land. Like adobe, and considering the lack of rain on this planet, he wondered if they had been preserved for years. There were no doors in the small homes, and one could easily walk inside. For a moment, Leonard wondered if there were people just sleeping inside, but the though was dismissed as the place had nothing to offer. It was simply ruins.

The bear didn’t really choose the right place, but it was definitely better than sleeping on the rocky terrain they passed through. Or the sandy dunes of hell further back. He frowned “is this your home?” McCoy wondered, glancing at the bear. He jogged over the catch up to it, and walked next to it, “Where are you going?” he asked it. He chuckled nervously to himself, “Look, if you don’t give me at least a grunt, I may go mad and start talking to myself.”

The large mammal kept walking until he reached an open courtyard within the small assortment of houses. In the middle of it, there seemed to be a well. The bear approached and swiped a wooden plank covering the top of it. Finally, he turned to McCoy, who stared at the well flabbergasted.

“A well?” he rushed over to peer the edge of it, “…and there’s still water in it!” He scratched the bear on the chin, “You ARE a genius, you smart bear!” He searched around and found the pulley system he needed.

“You want some water?” he called back to the animal, laughing and he manipulated the rope to retrieve water, “because you are about to receive a bucket load!” he pulled up the bucket and allowed the bear to drink out of it, “That’s right, fella, and you earned it, too!”

Once the bear drunk the bucket clean McCoy grabbed his water bottle and drank the whole bottle and sighed, “thought I’d be a goner, honestly,” he muttered as he replenished his bottle with the well. He pulled out a second bucket of water for the bear to make sure he was hydrated. After he had his own fill, the large creature walked off and into one of the small homes. Leonard walked and hovered hesitantly near the entrance.

“Now, I better hope you aren’t trespassing,” he shook a finger at the bear, “because if I wake up to find a Vulcan family calling the Vulcan authorities over our presence here then I will be very upset with you.” He finally stepped inside, looking around only to see an empty home. The bear had snuggled into a corner of the home and let out a long sigh.

“This your home?” McCoy asked again, settling next to it, “It’s a nice place,” he muttered sarcastically, dragging his finger across one of the walls. There was sand everywhere. The bear quickly drifted back to sleep, but McCoy found himself restless. He made sure the bear was completely asleep before he stepped out of the small house to wander.

 “I wonder where the real civilization is,” he muttered, walking around and peeking into the empty homes. Many of them were simply a type of adobe, completely empty, but some of them had dusty artifacts, like ceramic bowls or worn out furniture. He paused as he saw a fabric on the ground in one of the homes. He walked over to it and lifted it up. They were clothes. He rummaged through the dusty pile, wondering if there truly were people still living here, but the amount of sand and dust piled on everything had him doubting it. These clothes didn’t look like they were here for a week or so, they looked like they had been here for years. Regardless, it didn’t seem to be enough shelter to cover from storms. He brushed off the sand on one particular set of blue clothes and looked it over. They seemed to be around his size. He cocked his head and looked at it a little more closely.

“I could use this to shield myself from the rough sands…” He contemplated. He looked at his arms and torso. The shirt had shielded him from a lot of the sun, but honestly, he was expecting to be peeling in the morning. His sunburn was massive. The only reason he wasn’t in major pain was because he was a fairly tanned person. He was also accustomed to working in the sunlight from his days in Georgia. But this is hotter than hell Vulcan. He grabbed the pile of clothes and went over to the well. He pulled off the blue shirt and began to wash off his chest from all the sand was stuck to him. He scrubbed his face and felt the stubble on his face scratch at his palms. He washed off the rest of his body and began to wash over the new set of clothes. He hung the clothes on the edge of the well and reluctantly placed his underwear back on. There was no way he was going to have sand stuck in places he didn’t let even his personal physician near. He shook his head and tried to shake off the water from his body. If he didn’t dry soon, any sand he touched would get stuck on him. His eyes darted toward the house where the fluffy mammal was sleeping, but he quickly dropped that notion as fast as it popped in his head.

“I could just lay next to him,” the doctor muttered, “But then he’d bite my face off for using him as a bath towel.” He decided to just sit on the edge of the well. Being covered by a wooden plank meant not a lot of sand had covered it. He just hoped he didn’t fall in the well.

It took a few hours (he supposed it did, it’s not like he could keep track of time), but thankfully, the clothes were able to dry fairly quickly, as the heat was enough to have the water evaporate into the atmosphere. When he donned them, he couldn’t deny that he felt a strong sense of health surge through him. Placebo, of course, but he wasn’t about to disagree with the happy emotions. The clothes seemed to filter air a lot better than his Starfleet uniform, and he was sure that they would be able to shield better than his weak Starfleet uniform.

“Gotta say, blue is my color,” McCoy smirked to himself. He folded his uniform and began to search for his ration bag when he heard the heavy snort of the bear. The doctor flinched, not expecting the bear to be up, and hoped that the thing didn’t get cranky over abandonment of bed partners... Huh, could’ve phrased that a little better. He turned around, and saw the bear glaring up at him with its bright hazel eyes.

“Uh, sorry pal,” he began, “I didn’t…” his voice wavered as he realized something. The bear he was with had brown eyes, not hazel ones. And although this lighting was pretty weak, he could tell that this bear was significantly darker. It had torn tatters of his black shirt uniform in its mouth and its teeth completely bare at him, drool spilling from the corners of its mouth and the tips of its stained fangs.

_Ah, hell._

 

* * *

Spock had arrived to one of the small domestic villages. It was one that lived in the life of logic, but had pursued a sort of rural-like atmosphere. The homes were small and scattered. And any sort of food was grown all locally. He he approached the eldest in the area, *Mitrani. She was a fairly old Vulcan that he had come across in his youth when traveling. She never questioned where he came from, and once he informed her he had no need to give his name, she had simply taken a liking to call him *Awidat.

Throughout the years he’d known her, the elder Vulcan never seemed to rest. She would still be up at late hours, as she would simply spend most of her days sitting in a chair outside her house, staring out into the deserts in front of her home. She had a small market in connected to her home that used to purchase goods from. His hope was that she may have perhaps seen I-Chaya.

It had been, of course, many years since he had last come to the village. Once his face started getting more familiar due to growing older and more involved with his father’s affairs, it seemed that he could no longer enter villages without being recognized anymore.

As he approached her home, it was clear that even after all these years, she still sat in her typical seat.

“Awidat,” the elderly Vulcan stated as she slowly rose from her seat. She gave the Vulcan salute.

Spock nodded to the elderly woman, returning the gesture, “Mitrani,” he replied as he approached near her home, stopping in front of it. As the old Vulcan climbed down the steps of her porch, she cocked her head, “It has been approximately 10.563 years since I have seen your face. It is also very late. What is the reason for your visit?”

Spock shifted his bag to the side, “I am looking for my sehlat. He had veered off from my home and I am curious to know if he has passed in this town. I also wish to replenish my rations, as my journey may take longer than I had anticipated.”

Mitrani connected the tips of her fingers in thought, “I understand. I have seen two sehlats throughout the day, but I cannot say if either was your sehlat. One followed into the sandstorm that had passed by earlier today,” she looked up at the darkening sky, “the other had appeared later in the day, approximately 3.561 hours after the first had entered the storm,” she turned to look back at him, “I would like to state that this second sehlat did not seem passive. It ran quickly and erratically; wasting precious energy. It would not be a safe travel to approach it. You are welcome to stay the night, if you so choose.”

Spock made one shake of his head, “Negative, I must not delay in my travels; my sehlat awaits me. I simply need to purchase food and water.”

The elder woman looked back into the dark desert, “If this may not convince you, then I will not attempt to persuade you to stay any longer. The food you require, is it the same as the usual you used to get?”

Spock looked into the eyes of the elder Vulcan, “Affirmative, but I would like to include meat for a sehlat.”

As the Vulcan woman went inside her house to retrieve the goods, Spock looked out into the distance. I-Chaya could very well require his assistance, and if he was to get to his sehlat on time, he would need to travel without sleeping. Considering the direction the wind was carrying the storm, Spock could take a guess at which check point his sehlat may have taken. It was an old abandoned village he used to spend countless hours exploring in. There was a source of water there. The problem now lay in the time. It would take him until morning to arrive to the destination he only theorized his sehlat to be at. This would mean that the two sehlats may come across each other before he would arrive. And if the second sehlat was a wild one, as Mitrani predicted, then I-Chaya would have to fend for himself.

Spock’s mind ran back into his statistics, and they did not seem to veer to an ideal outcome. The moment he finished his purchase with Mitrani, he quickly made haste to his destination.

* * *

 Flight or fright, flight or fright. And McCoy had to be stuck with fright. His whole body was paralyzed as he stared wide eyed at the bear. It was massive, just like the other bear, but this one meant business. Everything he feared the other guy would do was void compared to this one. This thing was really going to kill him.

It growled at him, and Bones fell backwards, his eyes wide and his eyebrows furrowed, “I-I mean no harm,” he whispered as the large creature rose to its feet. He reached where his phaser usually was, and for the first time in this entire trip, he realized that he had never attached it to his holster. This wasn’t anything near the treatment that the other bear gave him. This massive bear looked like a giant; towering over him, making him feel like he’d suddenly eaten something from Alice in wonderland and shrunk down five sizes.

McCoy curled up and covered himself for the impact, but it never came. Instead, he heard the low pitched screech. It sounded like something from the Jurassic period. When he peeked from the security of his arms (as much security as a hay house was to a piglet), and saw that the bear he was with had jumped over to attack the other new one.

The enemy was slightly smaller than the light bear, but it was a lot leaner. The bears tossed around in the sand, emitting noises that pierced through the silence of the night and vibrated through McCoy’s skull. It was clear who was winning, and it wasn’t the good bear. McCoy looked around, and saw the communicator in his hand. He grimaced and ran toward the fighting bears, keeping a reasonable distance from the sharp talons and fangs. The dark bear had his friend in a choke hold with his jaws.

“That bear owes me favors, you!” McCoy called out as he threw the communicator directly at its face. The bear blinked, growling, and its light eyes swiftly directed itself at him. The other bear groaned, but was too sore to move from its spot. The darker bear rose slowly and began to go toward the doctor.

“I mean, if you’d like to discuss any trade, I got rations, if you’d like,” McCoy uttered, stepping back, “…or not. Because you ate them all, but hey, you let me, live, and, uh,” he turned and dashing toward one of the homes, “I WON’T HOLD IT AGAINST YOU!”

The bear cried out and began to dash after him. Leonard skid against the well, grabbed the wooden lid covering it, and threw it against the bear. It hit him directly in the face again. He then ran around the well toward one of the adobe homes. The large dark creature stood up, scrubbing its face with a whine, and crawled over the well. Leonard tried to take refuge in one of the small adobe homes, and found a narrow staircase hall. The enraged bear couldn’t quite reach him, but desperately tried to squeeze through. After some aggressive shoving, it simply got jammed. Breathing heavily, Leonard wiped sweat from his forehead, “Can’t reach me now, can you, you big oaf?!”

The large creature then cried out in pain, causing Leonard to flinch. The bear he’d been with seemed to have momentarily recovered and was clawing at the backside of the darker bear. McCoy watched in horror as the bear that attempted to eat him tried to wrestle out of the position he was in, but could not. It thrashed in agony, snipping at McCoy, but not able to do anything over the violent onslaught it was receiving from its former opponent.

The creature finally slumped over, and McCoy simply stared at the dead animal in shock. His attention snapped back up as he saw his friend stagger back. He quickly climbed over the corpse and rushed toward his friend, “Are you okay, buddy?” he whispered to it as stroked its fur. There was dried blood covering it, and the creature was breathing heavily. Whether due to exhaustion or blood loss, McCoy wasn’t sure. He looked outside to see sun rising, and guided the bear outside.

“Let’s take a look at you, shall we?” McCoy whispered gently as the bear groaned. It hobbled outside with him and the doctor took note of the wounds. Minor scratches, but those were not the big issue, as they had stopped bleeding already. The neck wounds seemed pretty deep, and that needed immediate treatment. He ran over to his uniform and grabbed the science blue shirt and pants. He then placed pressure on the wound with the blue shirt, “thank you, big guy. I mean, you ate all my rations, and I’m still resentful about that, but you saved me, and well, I guess maybe I’ll give you a twenty percent discount for that,” he grimaced, “but the catch is that you have to stay alive, you hear?”

The doctor began to worry. He wasn't able to tie the fabric onto the bear, as it was just too large. There was also the fact that there was just so much blood, that he wasn't sure he would be able soak it all up with the little clean clothes he had. He kept his body pressed against the bear until the blood stained the blue shirt too much. He them moved on the the uniform pants that he had and applied pressure to the jagged cuz on the mammal's neck. He stroked its head until, hearing the whimpering of the bear.

"Shhh, shhh," McCoy whispered, leaning his head against its fur, "It's gunna be alright, we just need to stop this bleeding. Hang in there."

He watched the fur of the bear begin to light up as the sun began to rise, but his priority was to apply pressure on the bear rather than turn around and watch the sunrise. He shut his eyes, hearing the heartbeat of the bear against his ears and matching the long deep breaths.

_In... out... in... out... in... out-_

“What have you done to my sehlat?” a voice behind him demanded coolly.

“What-?” McCoy turned sharply to the source and saw a live, breathing Vulcan with a large sack looming right behind him. Before he could do anything else, the being reach over to his neck, pinched it, and everything went black.

* * *

 

_[message sent]_

 

Subj: _Demerit!_

_Hi there Bones,_

_Okay, so you forgot to message me yesterday. It’s fine, no big deal. Just be sure to send a quick “I’m busy” if you really can’t send a long answer. I’ll let it slide this time, doc, but make sure it doesn’t happen again! Captain’s orders! And don’t grouse me about being petty because YOU were the one who made that promise._

_You’ll probably grouse me anyway._

_Anyhow, today is a new day and I’m hoping to hear some fun stories from your end. ENTERTAIN ME, BONES!_

 

_This is your future Captain speaking,_

_-James T.Kirk_

 

_p.s. I figure you probably knocked out that virus after an all-nighter. Make sure to get some rest and keep me updated!_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GEEZ what a cliffhanger, right? What does Spock think of finding his sehlat bleeding at the hands of the blue-eyed mysterious being? And what will become of McCoy after he wakes up?!
> 
> *Mitrani: A Vulcan name that means ‘busy mother’. Not really a deep analysis.  
> *Awidat: ‘bold yet prepared.’  
> -Spock most likely earned this nickname from Mitrani due to the fact that he was a very young Vulcan who seemed to know his way around the desert at a young age. I really don't know the gender of this name, so uh, sorry about that if it's female...?
> 
> I hope it wasn't too fast paced for you guys, I know I felt like it kind of was. Not my best chapter, I suppose? To clarify, Spock probably left that village the same time McCoy arrived the abandoned one. So it was pretty much a whole night. But I hope it was still enjoyable!


	6. Logos meets Pathos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy spirals into a dream while he's knocked out. Spock investigates what actually happened here. I-Chaya makes sure Spock knows McCoy isn't evil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It should be known that Spock actually speaks Vulcan throughout his whole adventure (especially when he’s in the village), and when he asked McCoy about his sehlat, it had been in his native language. He quickly realized that McCoy speaks standard and switches to that, but prior, he had been speaking in Vulcan. Hence the dialogue in the following dream sequence.

_“Vulcan,” the CMO stated, handing McCoy a PADD, “sounds like a place of my intellectual level.”_

_Leonard snorted, taking the clipboard and sifting through the information. He paused at one of the typed words on the document;_ you’ve got to be kidding me.

_“You spelled ‘Neurology’ wrong,” he commented dryly._

_“Oh you would know,” The surgeon scoffed, snatching the PADD and glancing at the spelling error, “I don’t suppose you know HALF of what I do on neurology,” he lowered his voice scornfully, “Ensigns.”_

_The Georgians eyebrows rose, his voice a deadly calm, “_ Lieutenant _, not ensign. And are you questioning my knowledge of Neurology, sir?” He noted that some of the nurses started walking slower to watch the conversation. Honestly, they could stand there all day if they wanted. McCoy had a whole journal ready to publish over neurology, and he was ready to snip each and every comment this older man had to theorize over the topic._

_The CMO gave him a condescending glance, “Patience was never something you mastered in the Academy, was it, McCoy? Perhaps it’s a good thing we aren’t docking on Vulcan. You would likely offend the entire planet within the first five minutes with your drama and inexperience.”_

_McCoy stepped closer to the CMO his voice still level, but getting thicker with scorn after each word, “Perhaps I didn’t master patience, but if you’d like I could very well show you my experience in neurology when I put your brain back together after I clock it out of your skull.”_

_The CMO’s nose flared, “After I’m done with my incident report over you, I will see to it that you NEVER get back on a Starfleet ship-“_

_Suddenly, the ship’s alarms when off with a red alert._

* * *

_Raja, Gary and Jordan stood in front of him in the shuttle. No one seemed to be driving, and although it didn’t make sense, McCoy really didn’t pay much mind to it._

_Gary chuckled, “Fiery spirit.”_

_Jordan giggled at the comment, “Good one.”_

_Raja curled McCoy’s hand over the paper, “Vulcan. You will like planet, doctor,”_

_And just like that, he was hovering all over again above the Vulcan sky, without a parachute, yet falling slowly until he stumbled against the dunes._

_He stood up only to lean against his large bear friend, feeling the fur against his cheek. Each intake and exhale of his breath was in rhythm with his mantra._

_Stop bleeding. Keep breathing. Stop bleeding. Keep breathing._

_The air started to thicken with grains of sand, and the bear disappeared from his hands like spilling sand. His sensitive skin aware as the grains around him pelted him roughly, but his eyes seemed to see everything crystal clear. The thunder began roaring deafening loud as the storm swirled, and transformed into a large bear with long fangs. It grew larger and larger, until its wide jaws encompassed Leonard. His scream tried to tear out of his throat, but it was clogged with all the sand entering his mouth. He couldn’t sense what was up or down, and the heat kept rising and rising until a man with pointed ears, a Vulcan, knelt before him. He pulled the hoodie over his head, calming the chaos around him. The sand all paused in place; with grains hovering around them as the alien place a hand where his neck and shoulder met and questioned him in a calm voice:_

_*“Ra ma du ovsoh tor t'nash-veh sehlat?”_

* * *

There was no hesitation to the action of nerve pinching the stranger; Spock had assumed that the short height was that of a young Vulcan. That would have been quite simple to compromise with. But it was an adult who had turned to him with electric blue eyes. And, without knowledge of whether or not this species would be hostile or passive, Spock had wasted no time to find out. It was best, therefore, to render him unconscious.

He glanced at his wounded sehlat; I-Chaya was still bleeding. He threw a quick glanced at the small being, and then pulled out the blanket he used to sit on the ground to eat. He quickly brought out extra clothes and pressed them against his sehlat’s wound and tied the blanket snuggly over it. Was that what this being was attempting to do before he arrive? Stop the bleeding? He looked over his friend for any more serious wounds, but it seemed that the large gash was the only one needed tending to.

He walked over the well to retrieve water, and saw that some of the stones framing the well had been broken off. Something strong must have done this, perhaps his sehlat? The Vulcan unhooked the bucket of water and feed the liquid to I-Chaya. The animal growled, shifting to get up.

“Stay, I-Chaya,” Spock ordered. His sehlat refused to listen, and Spock placed his hand firmly on I-Chaya’s back, “You will harm yourself if you continue to move as such.”

Although I-Chaya was weakened, it did not mean he was weaker than Spock. The Vulcan could not stop him as he rotated to face the unconscious being. He nudged him with his head, removing the hood from his face in the process, and licked his face a few times before dragging the stranger closer to himself. He then laid back down and placed his head next to him. Assessing that his sehlat wished to protect this stranger, Spock decided to investigate the being. He crouched down to look at the now un-hooded figure.

Spock vaguely noted that the alien was wearing female robes, but appeared to be male. He was fairly small in stature. He could make out unruly light brown hair, and tanned skin. A strange tint of pink flush dusted his cheeks, and a sheen of sweat dripped down his face. He looked entirely uncomfortable, murmuring incoherently in discomfort. This species was not built for the heat. The Vulcan noted that the sun was beginning to hit the stranger directly in the face, so he pulled the hood of his clothes over his head to shield his sensitive skin. After running through his knowledge of various external species, he finally concluded Terran. The question now lay in what a Terran was doing in the middle of Vulcan.

He recalled those striking blue eyes once again. It was a feature Spock wanted to even say casted an illusion of his eyes glowing as the sunrise light flickered over them. A tedious feature to have in a strongly lit planet, but he couldn’t help but bring back that memory few times while he thought over why the being could be doing here. It was such a vivid and vibrant feature that he could only recall in textbooks. His own mother had hazel eyes, but this was a pure blue color.

His eyes then traced back to the blood stained clothes next to I-Chaya; the one the Terran had been using to help his sehlat. He pulled up a light blue shirt with a silver badge on it. Starfleet, and judging by the blue, he was a science officer. He frowned, this man was either lost, or impersonating an officer. His theory leaned more closely toward the former, since his sehlat didn’t seem to be aggressive toward the stranger. He pet his sehlat as he looked around, finding a trail of I-Chaya’s blood leading to one of the adobe homes. Curiosity got the best of him as he stopped stroking his pet’s fur and walked in to investigate. The entry seemed broken. The square entryway warped as though something large had shoved through quickly. As he walked through, he paused at the strong stench of blood.

The second sehlat. The sight was very gruesome, and it was clear that this was a dead corpse. Spock knew that there was no way that I-Chaya could have won this battle on his own. Spock would often treat his friend to hunting games, but it was an honest truth that I-Chaya would in no way be able to win a fight with a wild sehlat. He was too domestic. As he looked over the corpse, he could see that the bear was stuck in a hallway. Something led it to be stuck in this staircase. His eyes darted toward the blue-eyed Terran. I-Chaya kept licking him, and the man groaned, dramatically arching and stretching, and finally waking up from his slumber. Spock stood at the entrance of the adobe home, tracking each and every movement of the Terran carefully. Perhaps even with a hint of fascination.

“What just happened?” McCoy murmured to himself, unaware of the gaze on him. He was looking up at an orange sky, with a confused glare, before his eyes shot open and he sat up quickly, wobbling over the sudden strain on his body, “You- bear-!” he stuttered at the bear, and he ran his hands across the bear. They finally landed on the makeshift bandage Spock made, “I didn’t do that…” he whispered distantly before surveying the area. His eyes finally landed on the Vulcan, and he bristled. He straightened himself up; glaring up at him, but said nothing. _If there is any fear in this man_ , Spock thought, _he is hiding it quite well._

The Vulcan cocked his head, the man had spoken Standard. Therefore, he decided question him in kind, “Who are you?” he asked McCoy calmly.

“’Who are you?’” The male mimicked sarcastically, “Who are YOU, is the question,” he began to muttered darkly under his breath as his hand quickly moved to the spot Spock had pinched, “I’ve just about had with this planet,” He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the Vulcan, “What did you do to me? I was trying to help this here bear, and I get a greeting in the form of a- a-“

“Nerve pinch,” Spock inputted.

The glare sharpened, “Nerve pinch. If we want to be fair, I should be asking for YOUR intentions,” he leaned back to the bear, placing a protective arm on his head.

His eyes darted between those clear blue eyes before they went to the hand on I-Chaya, “If you wish to know my reason to appease your worries, then so be it. That is my sehlat,” Spock stated, pointing at the bear.

McCoy squinted his eyes at the Vulcan, “Your who’s it what’s it?”

“My pet is not a ‘who’s-it-what’s-it’. Nor is he a ‘bear’, as you had mentioned earlier. He is a sehlat. If you do not return him, I will be forced to call upon authorities.”

McCoy grimaced, “I didn’t steal him. He appeared out of nowhere and decided to kidnap ME. And as a matter of fact, this fella here needs medical attention,” he turned to look over the bear. He didn’t know exactly how long the bear was bandaged, but the bleeding seemed to be under more control. He scratched the creature behind the ears, happy to see his improvement. His smile disappeared, however, when he turned back to the alien in front of him, “that, and he owes me a favor or two for eating almost all the rations I’ve been surviving on.”

Spock stared at I-Chaya for a moment, “His name is I-Chaya.”

At the sound of his name, the bear shifted his head at Spock. _Well, no denying that it’s his pet,_ McCoy realized. It explained why the bear-er- slahat? sahlaht? _sehlat_ \- seemed comfortable with humanoids. The Vulcan gestured for his pet to come to him, and he slowly made his way toward the Vulcan. There was a pinch of hurt in McCoy to watch the mammal walk away from him. It was a short lived friendship, but dammit that furry pal was a good friend. The bear lowered himself down next to the Vulcan, and the being looked over the bandage on the creature.

He then turned back to McCoy, “Now, I will ask you once again. Who are you?”

Realizing that the man was had no intention to hurt him, McCoy felt himself relax, but his dehydration and hunger was all the more prominent. He in inhaled and exhaled deeply, vaguely realizing that he was a little out of breath, “my name is Leonard McCoy and I’m a Starfleet officer.”

The Vulcan nodded, “My name is Spock.”

“Just Spock?”

“You would be unable to pronounce the rest.”

“Yet it’s common courtesy to say it.”

“It is pointless if the person is unable to relay it back.”

“Look, at least give me a try.”

“S'chn T'gai Spock.”

“Spock it is, then.”

Spock found himself attempting to retain a sigh. He looked over the Terran again, “I must inform you that you are wearing female attire.”

Leonard slowly looked down at his robes, and looked up at the Vulcan with a concerned expression, “You aren’t serious.”

I-Chaya, as though mocking him, made a snorting noise, and McCoy felt obligated to explain, “I found it in the adobe homes back there.”

“You were not aware, I understand,” Spock responded. Nothing he owned was the size of this Terran, “I highly doubt any adult male attire would have fit you.”

Leonard rolled his eyes, “Look, I’m just trying survive a desert. I’m a Terran species. I can’t just wear a dinky uniform and be expected to survive these conditions. Hell, my skin is peeling under these thick robes as we speak. Just recently changed into them when, uh, I-Chaya was it? Until he took me to this abandoned settlement. Then another one of those huge creatures came and attacked us, and well, the rest is-” He instantly froze, and then looked around frantically, “Where is my old uniform?”

The doctor found the blood stained pants of his uniform near him and he crouched down to reached into the pockets. The Vulcan watched him with curiosity as he saw the Terran pull out a folded piece of paper in it and sighed in relief. His whole posture slouched as he placed his forearm on the ground; his head ducked down as he steadied himself. He then turned to the Vulcan, raising a brow, void of any malice, “Do you mind if I pause this conversation for some water? I’m pretty famished.”

The Vulcan nodded, watching as the man stood up with some difficulty, walking carefully toward the well, “Where the hell is the bucket?” he asked out loud, looking around the well, even peering inside of it, “damn wild bear, knocking over everything.”

“Had proof around you not spoken for your innocence, I would not have believed you to be in Starfleet,” The Vulcan stated as he picked up the bucket that he had unlatched earlier and walked over to the Terran. He handed over the bucket to the man and he gave a quick and tired nod, whispering, “thank you,” then latched it to the hook with shaky hands. Before the Vulcan could address his terms on gratitude, the man spoke, “Really? And why might that be?”

“Your crude nature and dialogue speaks nothing of the military precision that is required for Starfleet regulation,” Spock stated, “I would have thought that you may have stolen the uniform otherwise.”

McCoy paused in his action to turn to the Vulcan, “Crude? Dialogue? Why, Mister Spock, if you MUST know, I crash landed onto this planet unexpectedly as a sole survivor, was kidnapped by a bea- sehlat, almost attacked by another one, and then- get this- I'm ‘nerve pinched’ by a Vulcan. So pardon me, pointy, for not being the most polite of folks. And all things considered, neither have you been.”

“Pointy?” Spock inquired, “was that intended to be derogatory?” The Vulcan had assumed they were on more passive terms, but it seemed he had enraged the doctor for his honest commentary. Now the Terran was blatantly insulting him. What an illogical being.

The man did not reply, as he had already focused his attention to retrieve the water. Spock watched the trembling hands slowly began to steady. His eyes glanced at the Terran as he seemed to slow his breath; his eyes in full concentration to this single task. Perhaps he _is_ in some manner disciplined. Nonetheless, it seemed like the man already weak enough.

“You require assistance,” the Vulcan stated, stepping closer to the Terran.

“No, I do not,” McCoy punctuated, throwing a glance at the Vulcan before returning back to his task, “I’m a doctor, not a damsel in distress. I can get my own water. And stop hovering over me like I’m some invalid.”

Spock took one step back. He was very accustomed to condescending attitudes, especially among other Vulcans, but they were always meticulously calculated. They were casual snips at him that could very easily be disguised as logical statements. This man, however, made no effort such cloak in his comments, as he made no restrain to keep any of his thoughts to himself. He was not entirely sure as to whether or not he preferred it.

"It seems illogical to deny help if it would be more efficient to obtain water," The Vulcan reasoned. 

"And if I can retrieve it myself, there no logic in asking for help," McCoy countered.

"Inefficiency in action is illogical, it is not simply about the ability to execute it," Spock retorted.

The Terran inhaled deeply before speaking, "Look, mister Spock, it's enough that I'm getting water," he gave a tight smile, awaiting for the Vulcan to continue the argument. To Leonard's relief, he did not.

“Medical track then. What do you specialize in?” the Vulcan instead questioned, watching the blue-eyed man retrieve water in a very slow and calculated manner. 

McCoy didn’t answer as he rose the bucket straight to his mouth. He started sipping at first, before he began to chug the water greedily. Spock watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he drank the water. Leonard closed his eyes, relishing at the taste of water in his mouth before finally pausing to take a deep breath, smiling freely.

“Surgeon,” the man replied, turning to Spock with a carefree smile. Had he not just insulted the Vulcan? Or was he no longer mad at him? His eyes darted down as the man licked his lips, “a Lieutenant, but I’d rather be referred to as a doctor.”

“Very well, doctor,” Spock replied. McCoy furrowed his eyes in confusion, “Did you just-? No, my name is Leonard; I meant that in the sense of my profession.”

Spock cocked his head, “Are you not addressed as ‘doctor’ in your profession?”

“Yes, but I just gave you my-,” McCoy paused in thought, “…are you mocking me?”

“Of course not, doctor, I am Vulcan. We do not engage in such baseless actions.”

“Well, it sounded-“ Leonard’s dialogue was interrupted by the sound of his stomach grumbling loudly. The noise even had I-Chaya perk up from where he was laying down. Leonard’s hand quickly went to gripping his stomach as he eyed the surprised Vulcan. He gave an apologetic smile, “Pardon the involuntary action. Hungry, is all," McCoy he gave Vulcan a sheepish look, “you, uh, wouldn’t happen to be carrying something to eat on you, now would you?”

* * *

 

_[message sent]_

 

_Subj: EXCUSE ME_

_Bones! Jesus man, are going through a biological warfare back there?! I know you’ve told me that I might get a taste of my own medicine with my one-night stands but this is below the belt. And not in the fun way! Look, I just want to make sure you’re okay. Things not going well? Don’t go off in a depressed tangent without me, either, alright? You usually message me twice a day, at least. If you need to talk, video chat with me. Don’t go off drinking yourself into a stupor. Send me a strongly worded message (not that you normally don’t always). There’s still some daylight left, so I’ll give you until midnight in Standard time._

_This is your future Captain speaking,_

_-James Ti-FURIOUS Kirk_

_p.s. if you REALLY want to drink we can do a video chat and drink together. Shots every time you mention you’re a doctor. Shots every time you say ‘dead’. Shots every time you say any conjugation of ‘hypo’. Oh, and shots every time I mention ‘Captain’! (that’s two shots already)_

_Just message me, Bones._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Ra ma du ovsoh tor t'nash-veh sehlat? -> What have you done to my sehlat?
> 
> I know, I know. In AOS, Jim is the one that calls Spock pointy. But I don’t think that Kirk in TOS would ever call Spock that unless, of course, we get a situation like 'This Side of Paradise', where he insults him for the sake of making him snap out of his delirious state. And get that; in TOS, Spock holds a comment like ‘unfeeling computer’ from Bones like an everyday deal, but when Jim does it, Spock really takes it to heart. Which really shows how their dynamic really works. Jim usually doesn’t make jabs unless it’s something like ‘your almost human!’, and if he does, Kirk usually does it in a way that never necessarily insults his culture, but rather playful insinuates his human one. He rarely ever places Spock’s race into question, so as it may be normal in AOS for a situation like that, (I’m not really offended by it if it is like this in AOS, it’s an alternate universe which means things may play through drastically different,) I don’t really see it happening in TOS. Hence, ‘pointy’ is reserved for McCoy.
> 
> Anyhow! The two encounter! I had suuuuch a hard time writing and re-writing this piece. I wanted to have a realistic manner of how they encounter, and I seemed to veer more towards Spock's POV, but I assure you, next chapter will be mainly in McCoy's POV.


	7. A Lesson on Culture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock learns about McCoy. Not much else I can explain from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm back on the writing train. I was busy with exams and the like, so I didn't have much time for writing.
> 
> But I'm hoping to pick off where I left off!
> 
> And now featuring: ARTWORK! Moved work from my deviantart account onto photobucket so it just goes directly on the story. Feel free to backtrack on some of the chapters. I aim to have at least one image per chapter, but I'm not quite done.

 “Thank you, Mr. Spock. I appreciate this so much, you don’t understand,” McCoy stated around the bread-like food in his mouth. His immense hunger for a decent meal overtook the strange and almost flavorless taste of the nutrition he was currently eating.

Both men sat on the ground with a plenty of nourishment spread around them. I-Chaya was next to them, slowly eating a slab of meat and careful as to not to disturb his injury. At the sound of gratitude, Spock perked up for clarify this misconstruction. He met the man in the eye, “It is imperative for you to know, doctor, that Vulcans do not enact in pointless actions such as gratitude or regret. Or any sort of emotional response for that matter. Logic, on the other hand, is where my actions have followed through. You were hungry, and unable to sustain yourself. Deducing that you were not of danger, I decided to provide you with the extra food that I had purchased during my travels. Therefore, it is unnecessary to waste your breath on gratitude.”

The Terran kept his gaze on him, but all merry emotion drained from his face. He kept chewing slowly until he swallowed the food in his mouth. He leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “You know, Mister Spock, you could’ve saved yourself some dialogue and simply said ‘you’re welcome’.”

“Were you so keen on ‘saving dialogue’, doctor, you would not have uttered the initial phrase in the first place,” Spock retorted.

Leonard grimaced, “You’re lucky I’m being fed, otherwise things could get nasty between us.”

If this was what the doctor was defining as ‘lucky’, Spock was not very curious to find out what kind of attitude the he would take in insatiable hunger.

“How is it that you are on your own on Vulcan?”

McCoy paused his chewing entirely this time, but didn’t shift his eyes up at Spock. He gave a long sigh and looked off to the horizon. For a moment, Spock believed that the Terran had not heard his question, but the doctor turned his head back to and swallowed loudly, “I suppose there’s nothing to hide on the matter, is there? I crash landed. I think I’ve already mentioned that bit. My ship was attacked, and I was paired up with the calvary, and then my shuttle was attacked. Then that chunk of a metal barrel came hurdling down on this planet in unspeakable speeds until lo and behold-” he gestured at himself, “-I’m the sole survivor outta that collision. I don’t watch my shuttle members die before me, but I get to trudge through the sand and declare them each dead. Reason being the result of the selfless actions of those shuttle members. The tin can was too roughed up. One parachute was going to work, but there were four of us. A decision had to be made quickly because that piece of machinery was making an ever increasing speedy nose-dive onto land. And a quick decision it was. Everyone but me made a unanimous vote to ‘save the doctor’. Of course, an impact that heavy left mercy for none them. There was no one to nurse to health by the time I got to the crash site.”

The doctor left the dialogue to finish his share of food in silence. He was grateful that the Vulcan didn’t comment or question as he ate. However, he did feel those dark brown eyes watching his him the whole time. Not wanting his emotions to be disregarded or disgraced, he chose not to meet the gaze. Once he had his fill, he stretched and wiped sweat off of his brow, “We’d only been sent to explore for one year. Nothing too fancy, and clearly nothing in the brawling department. Yet, we get caught up in one anyhow. I can’t recall ever getting involved in exploration for the Calvary bits, but I’d always expected something to happen. In the end, it’s the Starfleet.”

Spock cocked his head, “Who attacked your ship?”

“Klingons,” the Georgian responded, “I didn’t get drift as to how or why, and much of any data for that matter. My priorities are always set in taking care of my patients.”

 _They would be in violation of the Treaty,_ the Vulcan thought to himself. He then noticed the doctor reaching into his pocket. Had the Terran not dropped everything in search for that paper earlier?

“Is there important information in that slip of paper, doctor?”

The man glanced at the hand in his pocket, “Important? Definitely. It’s a note to a family. One of my crew members guessed that there wasn’t a high chance he’d make it, so he left this note to me. He has a letter to his family. I uh, own that and much more to him, I suppose. It needs to be taken it to its home,” he felt around the thick paper in his hands  before removing his hand from the pocket. He lifted his head up toward the unforgivingly bright sky, “Hell, _I_ need to get to my home.”

Spock looked him over, “Where is your home?”

McCoy blinked. He looked down at the Vulcan, confused. Now that he thought of it, he… really didn’t have a home anymore, did he? Hopped on to the first shuttle to Starfleet, recently entered his first mission… He’d be joining Jim once he got back. There’d be no time to go looking for retail deals. Then again, home wasn’t really a house, now was it?

“I, ah,” he chuckled nervously at how cheesy this was going to sound, “I suppose _Jim’s_ my home.”

Spock furrowed his brows, “I am not familiar with that location. Is it a city?”

The doctor snorted, “Jim ain’t a location, Mr. Spock. He’s my friend.  I don’t think I have a _house_ kind of home to go to anymore, but I’ve got a friend, and well, I guess _he’s_ my home. I’d like to think… well I’d like to think he feels the same.” He didn’t note the confused look he received from the Vulcan, as his eyes were looking at the ground, lost in thought.

“I am to assume that ‘Jim’ is a Terran species from your home planet?”

McCoy glanced up, “Yes. Jim, James Kirk. He’s… well,” he dragged his hand across his scalp, “I guess you could say that kid’s all I’ve got. I don’t really have a place I can go back to besides with him,“ the man gave a bright smile, “I bet you he thinks I’m ignoring him. My inbox must be full of his fits right about now,” he then frowned, “It’d be just my luck that he thinks I’m dead…”

Spock frowned, “Is he your mate?”

Leonard stiffened, “Ma-? God no. If you mean that in a relationship sense.”

“Family?”

Leonard chuckled, “I guess so, although it would be more spiritual than anything. We aren’t blood relatives, but he is a brother. Soulmates, if that makes sense, but entirely platonic.”

Spock nodded in understanding, “T’hy’la, then. A strong bond.”

“Yeah, we kinda are inseparable,” Leonard replied with a small smile. Spock nodded his head. It was a serene expression. He wondered how this Jim persona was able to beget such an expression in what seemed like a very capricious man.

“What about you?” Leonard probed, bringing the Vulcan out of his musing, “got any bond brothers?”

Spock glanced at his sehlat, “I-Chaya is the only one I carry any sort of non-paternal bond with. However, T’hy’la would not necessarily how I would describe it.”

Leonard’s smile grew, “Your best friend is this teddy bear?”

The Vulcan frowned, “Teddy bear?”

The doctor crossed his legs and gave a coy smile, “Ain’t such a stick in the mud after all, then! You’re just a big softie in the inside!”

“Doctor, I must inform you that I am not quite adequate in Terran vernacular,” Spock tried to voice this statement, but it was clear that it was lost under the robust laughter of the doctor. Such unabashed laughter was completely looked down upon, or rather a sign of mental instability on Vulcan. However, Spock took in the carefree expression of the doctor with fascination. It awoke a strange sensation. The only relation he had of this response was as though his heart was being clenched, but in a manner that wasn’t entirely painful.

Finally, the Terran began to cool down into small chuckles, “Jesus, it feels like I haven’t laughed that hard in ages! Thanks for that, by the way,” the man widened his eyes in realization and then grimaced as he saw the Vulcan straighten his posture more so that it already was, “Doctor, I believe we have already gone over this, but-“

“I don’t care what Vulcan culture says about ‘thank you’s, just take the gratitude and quit being so sour about it!”

Spock gave McCoy an appalled once over, “Such blatant disregard of external cultures other than your own has me wondering why you decided to become a Starfleet officer in the first place.”

Leonard rolled his eyes, “Couldn’t I return the statement? I’m not asking you to explain your entire Vulcan history and ethnics every time I happen to say thank you.”

“Yet it is still unclear whether or not you understand the social constructs of my culture, so it is crucial for me to explain be it the case you are not aware.”

“Well I’m aware, _very_ aware by this point, hobgoblin,” McCoy grumbled.

“I am unable to decipher whether or not your comments of bigotry are intending to direct my attention solely to the fact that we are different or simply to inform me of your negative outlook of myself and my species entirely.”

McCoy rose a brow, “Are we not different?” Before Spock could answer the question, the other man continued, “I suppose bigotry could be something of a resemblance to my words,  those of weak constitution, but I don’t suppose any of my dialogue is incorrect.”

“’Hobgoblin’, doctor, is not the correct classification of my species.”

The man rolled his eyes, mumbling ‘god save me’ before returning his gaze, “Do you want to know what I call my friend Jim, Mister Spock?”

Ah, the man the doctor referred to as his Th’y’la.

“I call him kid, for one. And the man’s roughly 25 years old. I also call him an arrogant bastard,” he pointed a finger a warning to him, “which he is, but we don’t thoroughly discuss that knowledge, I much rather call him kid anyhow,” the man shook his head, “needless to say, I am a man of metaphors and hyperboles. It’s not that I hate your species, Mr. Spock.”

“This does not explain why you continuously insult others, regardless of their affiliation of you.”

“Now don’t be ridiculous,” McCoy responded with a flirtatious smirk, “I don’t insult everyone. In fact, I’ve been known to be a southern gentleman,“ a wink followed, “I speak my mind when there is a need for it, regardless of whether or not I like you.”

“One could argue that the dialogue continues despite the ‘need’,” Spock responded, and then sharply looked over the doctor. McCoy opened his mouth to retort, but a deep rumble from behind him disturbed his thoughts. He turned to see a large Klingon aircraft streak through the air above them. They both kept silent as it sped off to a distance. Seconds later, a loud explosion was seen where the craft was merely moments ago. I-Chaya growled at the smoke forming.

“What the hell is going on over there?” the doctor muttered.

“That is approximately the same location as a local village I had passed through before arriving here,” Spock supplied. He watched as the man reached into his pocket, grope what he assumed was the paper from earlier, and then widen his eyes in realization. He turned toward Spock, “They’re under attack,” he stated urgently.

“This information has not evaded me, doctor,” Spock responded dryly.

Ignoring him, McCoy stood up and hobbled forward, “It’s the reason I landed on this unforgivingly dried up space rock in the first place. I need to get a working communicator,” he turned to the Vulcan, “Your planet is currently getting hijacked by Klingons!”

Spock had already begun to wrap up food and tucked everything away carefully, “The village that is currently being attacked has little to no sources of external communication off the planet. We would have to bypass it and proceed toward my own settlement.”

McCoy grimaced, “…We can’t just bypass that village. What if they need our help?”

The Vulcan glanced at the doctor, “You have just stated that you require a functioning communicator, correct? It would be the most efficient manner in doing so. Regardless, without any tools or resources your presence there is of no help.”

The doctor grimaced. He was right, he’d give him that, but there were people out there in danger. How was he so calm about leaving them to burn up in fumes?!

“We need to help those villagers,” he continued.

Spock approached his sehlat and caressed him. He examined the wound as he spoke to the Starfleet officer, “It seems unreasonable to attempt to help. Regardless, how would you get there? My sehlat is in no condition to travel to dangerous places and I myself must return to my own home. You would be on your own.”

“You’re kidding,” McCoy snorted in sarcasm, “So you’re saying you’d just going to leave them to die?”

“You may speak in riddles, doctor, but I do not. I merely pointed out that you are useless to those villagers in your current standing. You have no medical supplies, you have no food, and you have no means to travel,” the Vulcan stop stroking I-Chaya and turned to the Leonard, “And I should expect that you do not mean to ask for my sehlat to take you to their location, as he has suffered quite enough wounds under your care.”

McCoy clenched his fists to his sides and glared at the Vulcan, “It all seems so easy to you, doesn’t it? You just get to sit back home and snuggle with your pet.” He gestured at the smoke, “They DON’T. Not anymore. Where do you think they’ll rest? Can they rest, after such an explosion? They’re just CIVILIANS, they could be hurt!”

Spock stepped around McCoy to retrieve his basket of rations. McCoy gripped his shoulder as passed by him, “Goddammit man, have you no heart?”

Spock met the other man’s gaze. Blue was a color many species associated with cold. Chemically, however, one knew that blue flames burned hotter than red flames. And these eyes were alight with passion.

 _Fear. Rage. Concern._ There was an sensation of protectiveness under all of it. Protective of what? This was not his planet, nor had it any of his friends and family.  Spock lowered his eyes down to the contact the Terran had with his shoulder. The doctor followed his gaze and slowly removed his hand. His eyes no longer met with the Vulcan after retracting his grip.

Spock fastened his luggage on his shoulders and gestured for I-Chaya to follow. As the bear approached him, the Vulcan turned back to McCoy.

“Your statement from before is incorrect,” he started, and Leonard turned toward him sharply, “I am not going to leave those villagers to die. I am familiar with one particular member of that village, and if she is still alive, I do plan on ensuring her safety and providing her with a new home. If one were to look at this situation logically, it is clear that I would not be able to stop by and retrieve her for the journey, as my sehlat is wounded and unable to carry luggage at this time. Statistically, she would not be able to travel long distances. By returning home, I would be able to retrieve supplies, request aid from my own home town as well as warn everyone else of imminent danger. Does this not seem like an efficient plan to you?”

It actually did. McCoy raised his brows in realization, “So you DO care.”

The Vulcan frowned, “It is no matter of caring, doctor. It is simply doing what is most logical.”

The shorter man shook his head, “Ridiculous! You care! And you even have a lady friend to help out!” He smiled brightly, but he couldn’t help that part of his sentiment seemed forced. _Ain’t my business if he’s got on eye out for some woman. Or rather, Vulcan. Vulcan woman. Well, whatever the term there is to refer to a- Jesus, nevermind, it doesn’t matter!_

“If you are finished wasting time, doctor, I would like to inquire if you plan on joining us. Part of my plan would benefit from a member of Starfleet were to communicate with said fleet.”

“What? You mean, back to your home?”

“I believe that is what was implied.”

McCoy glanced off to the smoke and then back to Spock. He gave the Vulcan something shy of smile, “Why, here I was thinking you were just gunna leave me out to die, Mr. Spock.”

“There is no benefit in killing you. However, if it is the route that you wish to choose, I am in no position to argue against it.”

A chuckled erupted from McCoy, “Not my wish at all, thank you very much,” he immediately flinched and peered suspiciously at the Vulcan. _Please don’t…_

“Vulcans do not practice ‘gratitude’, doctor.”

“God save us all! I wasn’t necessary thank you this time, either!”

“You explicitly stated, ‘thank you’.”

“But that’s not- it’s a saying- you don’t- you know what? Forget it. Let’s go to your town,” Leonard stepped over to the sehlat as they walked forward, “I’m going to put you between us, I-Chaya. Because regardless of all the drama you’ve caused me, I actually _like_ you.”

I-Chaya leaned over and licked McCoy in the face, and the doctor groaned, “What’d I tell you about the licking? I have no clue what that slab of meat you were eating was and now I have to suffer through not knowing what kind of bacteria and disease infested contaminations were in it for the rest of the trip!”

“Doctor, if you would like to know you need only ask.”

“Hush, you. I wasn’t referring to a pointy eared hobgoblin. And when I do, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

 _Childish,_ Spock thought to himself, _I had assumed I-Chaya would be the difficult one to handle, but it is apparent that this will not be the case._

 

* * *

 

_[draft]_

_Subj: I know_

_Hey Bones,_

_So I read the articles today. I know I told you I don’t read that stuff, but I read it anyways. You’re ship_

 

_[message deleted]_

 

 

 

_[draft1]_

_Subj: Hey_

_Hey Bones,_

_Your ship blew up. And your name wasn’t on the recovered list. I guess I know why you haven’t been keeping up with_

 

_[message deleted]_

 

 

 

_[draft2]_

_Subj: News_

_So the news came in! And guess who I still thinks you’re alive regardless? That’s right, your future Captain!_

 

_[message deleted]_

 

 

 

_[draft3]_

_Subj: Still there?_

_Hey Bones,_

_Are you still alive? Maybe communication got cut off?_

 

_[message deleted]_

 

 

 

_[draft4]_

_Subj: Are you alive_

_Okay Bones,_

_I hacked into the starfleet database, and well, no one knows but you right now. I’ll delete this email off of the servers when I send it. Here the info I found:_

_So you were directed to be the medical officer of one of the shuttles assigned to assist the escape of the rest of the crew. It’s always you, right? I’m sure that’s what you would say. Well, I read up some more and here’s the thing. Your shuttle wasn’t found! So I thought it through, and what if you’re alive? I think you’re too stubborn to die. And get this; there’s a planet not too far from where you were attacked. My guess is that you landed there. Maybe crashed, considering things, but I’m sure you’re alive. When you find civilization, make sure to_

 

_[message deleted]_

 

 

 

_[draft5]_

_Subj: [blank]_

_You lying bastard. You didn’t promise, but you said you’d come back_

 

_[message deleted]_

 

 

 

 

_[draft6]_

_Subj: [blank]_

_Don’t leave me alone, Bones, you’re all I got._

 

_[message deleted]_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_[message sent]_

 

 

_Subj: [blank]_

_Hey Bones,_

_Guess who snuck into a ship? It’s okay, I was caught when it was already too late, and Pike’s Captain. Piss as hell, sure, but he’s letting me stay._

_Anyhow, Klingon’s are attacking Vulcan, therefore, attacking you. Because I KNOW that’s where you are. When you can, send me your coordinates and I WILL come find you._

_This is your future Captain speaking,_

_-James T. Kirk_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there isn't much of I-Chaya! He just needed some recovery time. And Spock and McCoy's frame of argument take up a lot of space!


	8. Sunbathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock spills a little more about himself and Bones starting to get attached to the two natives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so start expecting chapters to come super slow! It's the start of college and I've been getting busy with jobs (yes, I have multiple and they all don't pay nearly enough). I want to be able to read other people's fics too, so that may not also help out too much on time either. I hope you guys are okay with my delays. ^_^'
> 
> Also, the reason I took off the images is because photobucket's got upgrades on linking images and it now costs moneys??? I dunno, I read a bit about it but I don't plan on paying for it just for fanart...

“Slow down, would you?” McCoy muttered tiredly, “It’s a damn embarrassment that I can’t even keep up with a wounded sehlat. Now I’m aching all over from sunburn and you walking in an ungodly speed isn’t helping my dried up stamina.”

Spock minimized the speed at which he was walking. It wouldn’t do if the doctor were to faint; it seemed a matter of sheer will that he was surviving. The man had chosen to wear his regulation pants under the robes, an ill-advised decision, but the doctor would have no argument, commenting over gender confusion and so called ‘man’pride’.

“There isn’t anything wrong with being a woman. And there isn’t wrong with being a man, or anything in between, out, and over the two. I just want it to be clear that I am a man. Jim and I have had our adventures, but I don’t want first impressions to go there when happen to meet your Vulcan friends.”

“If such attire suits you, then it should not be of concern to you,” Spock had replied. McCoy perked up and looked down at his outfit, “You saying this looks good on me?” his tone was light.

Spock raised a brow in confusion, “My statement was a matter of practicality. The robes suit you in terms of Vulcan weather.” His eyes locked with bright blue eyes and then back to the dark blue robes. But the robes did seem to coordinate visually with his eyes.

McCoy narrowed his eyes as the action, “That’s a far stretch of an excuse to cover up a compliment, Mr. Spock.”

“Take it as you would like, doctor,” The Vulcan replied, keeping his eyes fixated on the direction of his home. McCoy seemed to have more bounce to his step, smirking, “Then I’ll take it as a compliment.”

The doctor glanced over at the Vulcan. He held his stance in a pristine and perfect posture, and his gait was very graceful. He barely squinted at the bright sunlight beating on him, obviously due to being a Vulcan, and the brown and earthy toned robes he suited him very well. Other worldly was not only the literal description, but the man was very elegant in the way he carried himself and his actions. McCoy shook his head, _that, or it’s the dehydration talking…_

“Mind passing me the water?” he asked the Vulcan. The second reached over to grab a sack of water and handed it to Leonard; he eyed the man as he drank the water. McCoy, in turn, regarded him with a questioning gaze.

“We will run out of water 2.3 miles before we arrive if you continue to drink as consistently as you are currently consuming it in.”

McCoy frowned, speaking in an affronted tone, “I’m human. I need water. Lots more than you Vulcan folks.”

“If you are able to sustain yourself without water for that stretch of distance, then you should be fine doctor, it is simply a matter of-“

“I understand, Spock. I can pace myself,” McCoy interrupted, waving tiredly. He returned the sack of water to Spock. The latter cocked his head, watching as the man wiped sweat off his brow. He seemed far too tired to argue with him. The Vulcan debated on walking slower to help the doctor’s exhaustion or to keep his current pace and reach their destination faster so he could treat the doctor. He was clearly in medical need. In the end, slowing his pace won out. The Vulcan decided that he himself would simply go without water until they arrived.

A low vibration of another large shuttle craft brought their attention to the sky. It was Klingon craft as well, and McCoy uttered a hoarse curse as it flew overhead. It didn’t seem to attack anything, but its mere presence was something that unsettled Leonard.

“Do you think that they’re heading toward your place?” he asked the Vulcan. Spock spared him a single glance before turning head forward once again, “If it were, I would not be concerned,” he responded coolly.

“Oh yeah? And why’s that? Other than your Vulcan principles, that is.”

“My city is of high priority. It is currently under thorough protection.”

McCoy rose a curious brow of his own, “Oh? Got really special people there?” _So the man’s high class? Figures._

“Affirmative, doctor. The Ambassador’s wife lives there.”

At the statement, McCoy perked up, “Is the Ambassador up there with her?”

I-Chaya let out a huff and smacked his lips. Leonard reached over and stroke behind his ears, his eyes trained on Spock.

“An unnecessary question, doctor, the Ambassador is not currently at Vulcan; negotiating off planet is part of the demands of such a job, he is ever so rarely in his home.”

Leonard gave a tired eye roll, subconsciously leaning closer to the sehlat. I-Chaya, in turn, helped the tired doctor keep his balance, “Don’t you start, you hobgoblin,” the doctor muttered, “He could happen to be home, it’s not like you’d know, right?”

Spock eyed the doctor’s movements, “On the contrary doctor, it would be a surprise if I were to not be aware.”

“What? You work in the main office or something?”

“They are my parents.”

The Vulcan watched in fascination as Leonard stopped walking to process the information. I-Chaya paused as well to make sure he didn’t fall. Leonard’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He cocked his head as his mind slowly turned gears to this information, and snapped his head toward Spock with wide eyes, “You’re the Ambassador’s son?!”

Holding back a comment over the timing of this realization, Spock merely took to a nod of his head. There was apprehension in the Terran’s eyes, “You aren’t some sort of prince or anything, but you’re pretty damn important! What the hell are you doing out here in the open without any sort of escorts?!”

“It is as you said. I am of no royal blood, therefore I do not require formal escorts.”

“No need to be modest _now_ ,” McCoy have an airy chuckle, “Jesus, this is a spectacle! Traveling and bickering with the ambassador’s son!” I-Chaya gave a low groan and nudged McCoy’s elbow, “And hanging around with a giant teddy bear, of course!” He have a quick scratch under I-Chaya’s chin, and the sehlat licked his fingers as they retreated.

“Keep acting like a small puppy and I might just snatch-ow! What the-? Oh great, I’m peeling,” McCoy grumbled out, catching the Vulcan’s attention. The doctor gripped the collar of his robes and tugged it forward to peek at the tan skin of his chest. Spock noted that it was tinted red and there were indeed parts of his skin that were starting to peel off.

Spock leaned closer to inspect; his curiosity getting the better of him. He tried to recall what methods his mother usually took to fix such a problem, but any ideas required items he did not currently have in his possession.

“Wouldn’t consider it shedding, but comes pretty close to it,” McCoy murmured, his medical mind too busy running an analysis of his condition to notice the tall Vulcan looming over him, “Considering I’m tan, it usually takes a lot more to get through my thick hide. So this really tells you something about the heat of this planet…and I’m aching all over, too. Exactly what I needed on top of everything that’s been going on.”

 “It’s a good thing you Vulcans aren’t touchy,” he turned to the Vulcan and noticed him peering at him, ”last thing I need is someone patting my back…uh, can I help you?”

“Simply observing the peeling you were speaking of, doctor,” Spock replied his eyes turning from the sunburn to the doctor. “I believe my home has medicine that may help with that,” Spock declared.

The second quickly averted his eyes and kept on trudging forward.

“I highly doubt you’ve treated a Terran for sunburn, being aristocratic and all.”

“Such unwarranted assumptions will lead you to no solid conclusions,” Spock stopped leaning over McCoy to look over I-Chaya. As his fingers brushed over wound, the shorter man seemed to have snapped out of his groggy gait and straightened his back, “here, let me,” he stated firmly as he allowed his blue eyes scanned over the wound. The Vulcan was entranced at how those bright blues darted back and forth to inspect his sehlat’s injury.

_Warmthconcernconcentrationcare-_

“Whoops.”

Spock snapped out of the daze he didn't realized he was under to see that McCoy had retracted his hand, “I uh, grazed your fingers a bit there,” his lips were pressed in a tight line and he seemed to be searching the Vulcan’s eyes. Likely a sort of reassurance that his mind had not been invaded.

Spock slowly moved his hand out of the away so that the doctor could continue to treat his friend, “I am not sure if you are aware doctor, but I am not able to read your mind with such a minor contact. It would require a mind meld in order for me to understand the surface emotions you emit,” regardless of understanding, however, Spock felt they were indeed tender and placating.

“Surface emotions?” Leonard repeated back. His attention went back to looking over the grazes on I-Chaya, but one could tell he was awaiting an answer.

“They are vague sensations of your mood. I do not understand why you feel any of them, but I am able to perceive subtle emotions that you produce.”

“What were my emotions like?” there was concern, but a tint of genuine curiosity.

Spock glanced at him, “You feel a strong need to nurture.”

Leonard gave a small smile, “Well, I am a doctor.”

“I find it to be a paradox as it is not parallel to your overall verbal bigotry.“

“Not this again,” the Georgian rolled his eyes.

“But I do understand that if not given a certain level of firmness, many Terrans are not given enough credibility in the medical profession.”

Satisfied with the healing progress of the wound, McCoy nodded to himself and absentmindedly began to run his fingers behind I-Chaya’s ears, “Well firmness in very important,” the doctor explained, “but a patient isn’t just someone to be given treatment stiffly. There’s got to be heart in it.”

Spock found himself petting his sehlat as well, “too much emotion and one can potentially harm oneself or the patient.”

McCoy’s fingers twitched minutely, “Pardon me, Mister Spock, but I don’t believe I’ve mistreated a patient whilst in the middle of said treatment,” _don’t think about Jim, don’t think about Jim, don’t think about Jim._

“As I’ve only seen you mildly treat my sehlat, you do not have any proof on either or. However, my conclusion stands in the manner of how you carry yourself. It is hard to believe you are not untoward and rude to your patients.”

“Do you need my resume, hobgoblin?”

“Offended, doctor? All I have stated are conclusions I have come upon based on your behavior.”

_There was something strange about this doctor_ , Spock thought to himself, he could not find the right word for it, but these verbal exchanges he had initially believed bile and below him seemed to root in his interest now. He would need further analysis in order to figure out why.

“And a baseless conclusion that is. You even said it yourself not a moment ago! You’ve yet to get all your facts straight. Read the book before you go on judging its cover!”

“I do not understand what ancient Terran scriptures have to do with this argument.”

Both the doctor and sehlat sighed through their noses. Spock raised a curious brow as McCoy gathered his bearings, exhaustion from the heat and the heated argument taking his breath away, “What I’m trying to say is you need to get to know someone more before you start judging their characteristics.”

Spock looked McCoy over, “I do intend to ‘get to know you’, doctor,” he replied gently, almost captivated by his own thoughts. The shorter man felt himself at lost for words and quickly cleared his throat, “Ahem. Right. Uh, can you pass me the water?”

The white tan sack was pulled out once again. As he drank a couple of sips, Leonard frowned, “Wait, have you been drinking water at all?”

“Vulcans do not need to drink as consistently as Terrans.”

Blue eyes narrowed, “That’s not what I asked.”

“I drank sufficiently before our departure,” the Vulcan replied, putting away the water sack. McCoy frowned, “don’t put away that sack of water.”

Spock also gave a frown of his own, “the water will evaporate if I do not.”

The doctor pointed aggressively at the object, “No, I want you to take a sip or two right this instant. You may be Vulcan, but it has been quite a distance. Now drink some water.”

Spock hesitated, “I hope to ration this water, not deplete it.”

“Mister Spock, if you don’t drink that water the only thing depleting will be yourself! Now listen to me. I’m a doctor for Pete’s sake! What the hell is the point of getting a all these degrees and licenses if no one’s going to listen to you!”

“Who is Pete?”

“Pete? Who’s–? Just drink the water!”

It would be pointless to continue to argue with the doctor, he would sooner pass out with exhaustion than give up on the discussion. So Spock pulled the container to his mouth and took a few sips. He had to admit that it would help with his stamina.

Leonard snorted, “I see how you sneaky Vulcans lie. It’s through omission and play on words.”

“’Play on words’, doctor? I believe that my statements were quite frank.”

“Well _frankly_ , I don’t buy it,” McCoy replied haughtily, “Anyhow, you got a time frame until we finally arrive to home base?”

Spock turned forward, “I estimate 1 hour and 34.534 minutes.”

“Sound like this is going to be the longest hour and a half of my life…”

* * *

“I can’t allow you to go on your own, Kirk. And that’s that.”

Jim had his arms crossed and kept tapping his foot insistently. He was sitting in a chair as he glared up at Pike, who was adjusting his Command yellow shirt. They were both in the Captain’s quarters. Jim had been in there for the trip to Vulcan.

“I technically don’t ‘exist’ on this ship’s roster anyhow,” Jim argued, “what’s the harm in going off to search for him?”

Pike tilted his head up to adjust his black undershirt, “Because regardless as to whether or not you’re registered on the Enterprise, the shuttles are actually cataloged.”

“You already fudged the system a bit with me, what’s to say you can’t fudge a bit more on that shuttle report?”

“Those shuttles catalog the minutes automatically, it’s a system precaution.”

“Pike, it’s like you don’t even know me!” Kirk chuckled, “that’s child’s play at programming. Give me thirty minutes, no, twenty tops, and I’ll have it looping on the same footage seamlessly.”

Pike wanted to plea to the heavens. Once he kicked the bucket, he was going to have a word with Jim’s father,  “Jim, I’m allowing you here because I know you’re experienced. I know you’ve got what it takes to join us, but I didn’t allow you to stay so you can sneak off and get yourself killed on this planet with Klingons scurrying about!”

“Bones is the only reason I even got on the godforsaken ship in the first place!” Kirk cried out, but then quickly turned away, “Apologies, sir.”

Pike sighed through his nose, “Look, Jim, you don’t even know if your friend is alive, so why would you waste your resources on trying to locate him? Our own search parties have already looked into the situation anyhow. If you must know, as more of the fleet is fighting against the Klingons, we did some searching.”

Kirk perked up, “Did they find anything?”

The sounds of Pike’s steps were thunderous as he approached the young blond, “you’re not the only one who lost someone dear to them, kid,” the older man sat on top of the desk Kirk was seated at, “So far we’ve located three of our lost shuttles. One landed safely, albeit a none functioning shuttle, but the survivors are said to have been mauled by a what a local had described as a le-mataya. Predators lurking within the deserts not too far from the landing site. The second shuttle crashed on site, engulfed in flames.”

Kirk’s heart began to race, a lump caught into his throat.

“It took us a while, but all who were in the shuttle were identified. Lieutenant McCoy was not registered on that shuttle.”

Kirk felt his shoulders dip in relief, but his fists were still tightly clenched.

“Now, the last one is… tricky. Lieutenant McCoy was said to be registered on it, but his body was not found. Only one of the parachutes worked, and it is assumed that there may have been a unanimous decision to have it deployed to the doctor of the group.”

“Then he’s alive!" Kirk cried out, standing from his seat. Pike place a hand on Kirk’s shoulder, “James, please. You think that man could’ve survived out in the wilderness on his own? Jesus, if the weather didn’t slowly dehydrate him to death by now, he’s bound to have been eaten by any given predator out in those deserts. You can’t possibly be expecting to find a breathing and sound body out there.”

“Were rations taken?”

“That’s not the point.”

Kirk shrugged off the hand on his shoulder, “you can’t be sure of that.”

The Captain sighed, “In the same manner you can’t be sure that he’s alive.”

“I’m not sure,” Kirk stated, his face falling slightly, “I just… feel it. And it’s in these moments that I’m usually right.”

Shaking his head, Pike stood and walked over to one of his drawers, “You plan on getting through the fleet just on feelings? If you run into problems out there in the vastness of space, leading thousands of races into the unknown, are you going to leave it to your feelings?”

“Instinct is what allowed for humanity to survive, allowed for us to advance and come across other intergalactic species. We’d have never gotten out of Earth if we didn’t ‘feel’ there was something out there. We didn’t _know_ what was out there, nor were we equip with guidelines. Sometimes you have to know when to jump.”

“But if you’re not careful, you might just jump the gun,” the older man commented, turning back around with a red shirt at hand. The younger man blinked, processing what was being presented to him.

“You’re kidding me,” Kirk stated dryly, staring at the fabric. Pike gave a coy smile, “if you want to search for Lieutenant McCoy, you’ll have to be part of the Cavalry. They’re the ones that go down there, they’re the ones who do the search teams, and they will be the first point of contact for any federation survivors.”

Reaching for the shirt, Kirk hesitated, “will I be leading any teams?”

Pike’s smile grew, “Why, Kirk, you’re not on the roster. Team leaders have got to be registered officers. You have to fall back when they tell you to.”

“I’m not good with taking orders,” Kirk gave a feeble complain, but took the shirt and put it one nonetheless. Regardless, being in a team meant that he had to stick with his group. Pretty much preventing him from sneaking away. Pike thought this through.

The Captain gave him a pat in the back as he began to head out the door, “then this will be a humbling experience for you,” his tone darkened, “stick with your group, and that’s an order.”

As the sliding doors shut, Kirk’s smile grew. They were both aware that he would not be having a humbling experience because he would be sneaking out. Or maybe just Kirk did. He wasn’t going to be asking anyhow. If he wasn’t on the roster, then he wasn’t part of the ship’s rules and regulations, and he didn’t have to take orders. Loopholes.

The blond gripped the hems of his redshirt. Bones had to be alive. He could feel it, and well, his guts may be reckless, but it was an instinct that got him through life thus far.

“One step closer,” Kirk stated confidently.

 

 

 

.


End file.
